The Republican journal., 1911-08-17
Alfred, Me-, Aug ust 8, 1911.
ELIZABETH AkERS ALLEN DEAD,

Elizabeth Akers Allen, author and
writer, died August 7th at her home at
Tuckahoe, N. Y, at the age of 70 years.
Mrs. Elizabeth Akers Allen, whose
maiden name was Chase, was born in
Strong, Maine, 1882. She married Paul
Akers, the famous sculptor, who died in
1861. In 1865 she married E. M. Allen
of New York. She began her literary
work as contributor to the Portland
Transcript and in the early seventies be-
came literary editor of the Portland
Advertiser and held that position until
1881, when she removed to Tuckahoe,
N. Y, where her husband was in bust
ness. Although the author of several
volumes of verse, Mrs Allen is best
known to the world of letters as the
author of the poem afterwards set to
music, Rock me to sleep Mother This
was written in Portland in 1850 and sent
to the Philadelphia Saturday Post from
Rome, where she was living with Mrs.
Akers, in 1860. 1t was published anony-
mously, and for d time there was some
dispute about the authorship, which was
finally definitely settled in favor of Mrs.
Akers. She is survived by two children,
Mrs. Florence Mcintyre of Portland, and
an unmarried daughter who lived with
her mother. The body will be cremated.
ROCK ME To SLEEP.
Backward, turn backward, Oh, Time in youl
fight,
Make me child again just for tonight!
Mother, come back from the 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;
TO- ar1,
Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years
| am so weary of toll and of tears
Toll without reconpense, tears all in vain,-
Take them, and give me my childhood again!
l have grown weary of dust and decay,
Weary of fiinging my soul-wealth away;
Weary of sowing for others to reap
Rock me to sleep MOTHERHOOD me to sleep!
Tired of the hollow the base the untrue,
Mother, o mother, my heart calls for you!
Many summer the grass has grown green,
Bossomed and faded our faces between;
Yet with strong yearning and passionate pair
Long tonight for your presence again.
Come from the silence SO long and so deep
Rock me to sleep, MOTHERHOOD me to sleep!
Over my heart in the days that are flown,
No love like mother-love ever has shone;
No other worship abides and endures-
Faithful, unselfish and patient like yours.
From the sick soul and the worl weary brain
Slumber's soft Gains Ger my heavy lids creep
Rock me to sleep, MOTHERHOOD me to sleep!
Come, let your brown hair, yet lighted with
gold.
Fall on your shoulders again as of old;
Let it drop over my forehead tonight
Shading my faint eyes away from the light;
For with its sunny -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 sieep
Mother, dear mother, the years have beer
long
Since last listened to your lullaby song.
Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem.
Womanhood's years have been only dream.
Clasped to your heart in loving embrace
With your light lashes just sweeping my face
Never hereafter to wake or to weep;
Rock me to sleep, mother-rock me to sleep!