THERE are no colors in God's heaven-bent bow, Nor is there music in the choiring spheres, Can paint thy smile from out these youthful years, Recall the music of thy voice so low And sweet, dear mother, in the long ago. But gone art thou. Ah! how the bitter tears Burned deep into my heart! How memory sears, But cannot heal those wounds, while tears still flow. Back from those bright and happy days gone by, Echoes of childish mirth and cradle song! Thy guiding hand and presence then were nigh, And I am weary, and life's road seems wrong, I miss thy smiling face, thy watchful eye. Life's heaven was short. Eternity's is long. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN AUGUST MIDNIGHT by THOMAS HARDY OPPORTUNITY by JOHN JAMES INGALLS AUTHOR TO HIS CHILD by FRANCES AIRTH A CHILD'S GRAVE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE FROGS: AN 'AESCHYLEAN' CHORUS by ARISTOPHANES FRAGMENTS OF A POEM ON THE EXCELLENCE OF CHRISTIANITY by JAMES HAY BEATTIE |