The citizen. (Frederick City, Md.) 1895-1923, 1899-08-18
BY CHARLES l.. SHIPLEY.

sorrow.
THE OLD ARM CHAIR.
1 love it, l love it! and who shall dare
10 chide me for loving the old arm
chair?
I've treasured it long as a sainted
prize;
I've believed it with tears, I've en-
balmed it with signs.
lis bound by a thousand bands to my
heart;
Not tie will break, not link will
start.
Would you know the spell? A mother
rat there,
And sacred thing is that old arm
chair.
In childhood's hour fingered near
The hallowed seat with listening ear;
And gentle words that mother would
give,
To fit me to die aud teach me to live
She told me that shame would never
betide,
With truth for my creed, and God for
my guide;
She taught me to lisp my earliest
prayer
As knelt beside that old arm chair.
| sat and watched her many day
When her eyes grew dim and her locks
were gray;
And | almost worshipped her when
she smiled,
And turned from her Bible to bless her
child.
Years rolled on, but the last one sped
My Idol was shattered, my earth star
fled!
learnt how much the heart can bear,
When | saw her die in the old arm
chair.
IT'S past! tbs past! but gaze on it now,
With quiyering breath and throbbing
brow,
Twas there she nursed me, twas there
she died,
And memory flows with lava tide.
Say it is fol y, and deem me weak,
Whilst scalding drops start down my
cheek;
But love it, | love it and cannot tear
My soul from my mothers old arm
chair.
And we can still sing on, play
on-but hush! we bid the strings
of our instrument to pause, for
here passes in review in our ears
the sad, soft refrain Of Crock Me
to Sleep, Mother" as played by
Elizabeth Akers Allan; and as
the sweet strains flow on we are
carried back in remembrance of
some mother 'gone before" ana
waiting to welcome her child
when this life is spent.
ROCK ME TO SLEEP, MOTHER.
Backward, turn backward, o, Time,
i'll your flight
Make me child again just for to-
Mother come back from that echoless
shore,
Take me again to your heart as of yore
kiss from my forehead the burrows OF
care,
Smooth the few silver threads out OF
my hair,
Over my slumbers your loving watch
keep;
Rok me to sleep, mother, rock me to
sleep!
Backward, flow backward, o, tide OF
years.
| am so weary of tolls and of t.ars-
Toll without recompense, tears all in
vail
Take them and give me my childhood
again.
| have grown weary of dust and decay,
Weary Of tiinging my soul-wealth
away,
Weary of sowing for others to reap;
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to
sleep!
Tired of the hollow, the base, the I'M
true,
Mother. o mother, my heart calls for
you!
Many a summer the grass has grown
green,
Blossomed aud faded, our faces be
tween,
Yet with strong yearning and passion
ate pain,
Long | tonight for your presence
again;
Come from the silence so long and so
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock to
sleep!
Over my heart, in days that are flown,
NO love like mother-love ever was
shown;
No other worship abides and endures,
Faithful, unseltish, and patient like
yours,
None like mother can charm away
pain
From the sick soul and the wor d.
weary brain;
slumbers soft calm DER my heavy lids
creep,
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to
sleep!
Come, let your brown hair, just lighted
with gold,
Fall on your shoulders again, as of old
Let il fail over my forehead tonight,
Shading my faint eyes away from the
light.
For, with its suuny-edged shadows
once more,
HAPPY will thrOng the sweet visions OF
yore;
Lovingly, softly, its bright pillows
sweep!
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to
sleep.
Mother, dear mother, the years have
been long
Since last hushed to your lullaby
song;
Since then, and unto my soul it shall
seem, exa
Womanhood's years have been but a
dream,