Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MY TRUNDLE BED, by J. G. BAKER

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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

MY TRUNDLE BED, by                    
First Line: As I rummaged through the attic
Last Line: "father, do thou bless my child."
Subject(s): Grief; Sorrow; Sadness

AS I RUMMAGED through the attic,
List'ning to the falling rain
As it patter'd on the shingles
And against the windowpane,
Peeping over chests and boxes
Which with dust were thickly spread,
Saw I in the farthest corner
What was once -- my trundle bed.
So I drew it from the recess
Where it had remained so long,
Hearing all the while the music
Of my mother's voice in song,
As she sang in sweetest accents
What I since have often read:
"Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber;
Holy angels guard thy bed."

As I listen'd, recollections
That I thought had been forgot
Came, with all the gush of mem'ry,
Rushing, thronging to the spot;
And I wander'd back to childhood,
To those merry days of yore,
Where I knelt beside my mother
By this bed, upon the floor.
Then it was, with hands so gently
Placed upon my infant head,
That she taught my lips to utter
Carefully the words she said;
Never can they be forgotten,
Deep are they in memory riven:

"Hallowed be thy name, O, Father,
Father! Thou who are in Heaven."
Years have pass'd, and that dear mother
Long hast moulder'd 'neath the sod,
And I trust her sainted spirit
Revels in the home of God;
But that scene at summer twilight
Never has from mem'ry fled,
And it comes in all its freshness
When I see my trundle bed.

This she taught me, then she told me
Of its import, great and deep,
After which I learned to utter
"Now I lay me down to sleep";
Then it was, with hands uplifted
And in accents soft and mild,
That my mother asked Our Father:
"Father, do Thou bless my child."

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