Attempt > Volume 1 and Select writings

THE ATTEMPT
21
But it pleased God that I should bide
I’ this strange warld alane,
While all I loved and cherished were
Beyond the reach o’ pain;
For when the bonnie flowers o’ spring
Their fragrant blossoms shed,
And, stript of their late beauty, lay
All lifeless, cold, and dead,
My early blossom withered too,
And slowly drooped away,
Till a Avee corpse, still fair in death,
My chubby bairnie lay.
Yes, there he lay, my rosy hoy,
All stiff, and cold, and dead;
The fresh bloom from his infant cheek,
Ah! far too soon had fled.
He came to cheer my lanely heart,
On a bleak winter’s day,
And then he went, that sunbeam sweet,
In a spring morn’s first ray.
He’s gone to pave the way to heaven
For his lane mither’s feet,
Where faither, son, and mither too,
Shall all thegether meet.
At first I felt it couldna he,
I thocht he was asleep—
I couldna think that cruel Heath
My bonnie bairn could keep.
An’ everything went roun’ about,
I wished that I were dead,
And that from me, instead of him,
That strange thing, life, had fled.
And thus I sat for weary hours,
Thinking I wad go mad;
For oh, my heart was choked, and I
Was stubborn, lone, and sad,
Till mourners came, and took my son
Off to his lonely grave;
Then did the anguish af my heart
The doors asunder rave,
And tears, kind tears, free outlet found
From their fast closed abode,
And washed away in rapid streams
My sad affliction’s load.
Then to the Good Physician’s cure
I showed my broken heart,
And He of his almighty grace
Hid a sweet peace impart;
For I can look up to the heavens,
And watch yon twinkling light,
And think of him, an angel fair,
Than that great star more bright.
And wi’ my wark I sit and sing
The sweet, sweet summer long,
Beside his tomb who’s gone to learn
In heaven the angel’s song.
Euterpe.