And now I never shall know it. The jailer forced me away. Then since I couldn't but hear that cry of my boy that was dead, They seized me and shut me up: they fasten'd me 'Mother, O mother!'-he call'd in the dark to me year after year They beat me for that, they beat me-you know that I couldn't but hear; And then at the last they found I had grown so stupid and still They let me abroad again-but the creatures had worked their will. Flesh of my flesh was gone, but bone of my bone was left I stole them all from the lawyers-and you, will you call it a theft?— My baby, the bones that had suck'd me, the bones that had laughed and had cried Theirs? O no! they are mine-not theirs-they had moved in my side. Do you think I was scared by the bones? I kiss'd 'em, I buried 'em all I can't dig deep, I am old-in the night by the churchyard wall. My Willy 'ill rise up whole when the trumpet of judgment 'ill sound, But I charge you never to say that I laid him in holy ground. They would scratch him up-they would hang him again on the cursed tree. Sin? O yes-we are sinners, I know-let all that be, And read me a Bible verse of the Lord's good will toward men— 'Full of compassion and mercy, the Lord '-let me hear it again; 'Full of compassion and mercy-long-suffering.' O yes! Yes, For the lawyer is born but to murder-the Saviour lives but to bless. He'll never put on the black cap except for the worst of the worst, And the first may be last-I have heard it in church -and the last may be first. Suffering-O long-suffering—yes, as the Lord must know, Year after year in the mist and the wind and the shower and the snow. Heard, have you? what? they have told you he never repented his sin. G How do they know it? are they his mother? are you of his kin? Heard! have you ever heard, when the storm on the downs began, The wind that 'ill wail like a child and the sea that 'ill moan like a man? Election, Election and Reprobation-it's all very well. But I go to-night to my boy, and I shall not find him in Hell. For I cared so much for my boy that the Lord has look'd into my care, And He means me I'm sure to be happy with Willy, I know not where. And if he be lost-but to save my soul, that is all your desire : Do you think that I care for my soul if my boy be gone to the fire? I have been with God in the dark-go, go, you may leave me alone You never have borne a child-you are just as hard as a stone. Madam, I beg your pardon! I think that you mean to be kind, But I cannot hear what you say for my Willy's voice in the wind The snow and the sky so bright-he used but to call in the dark, And he calls to me now from the church and not from the gibbet-for hark! Nay-you can hear it yourself—it is coming-shaking the walls- Willy-the moon's in a cloud-Good night. I am going. He calls. LORD HOUGHTON THE BROOKSIDE I wandered by the brook-side, But the beating of my own heart I sat beneath the elm-tree, I watched the long, long, shade, I did not feel afraid; I listened for a word,— Born 1809 |