The Poetical Works of Elizabeth Margaret Chandler/The Slave-Mother's Farewell

The Slave-Mother's Farewell
May God have mercy on thee, son, for man's stern heart hath none! My gentle boy, my beautiful, my loved and only one! I would the bitter tears that steep thy young and grief-doom'd head, Were springing from a broken heart, that mourn'd thee with the dead.

And yet how often have I watch'd above thine infant sleep, With love whose gushing tenderness strove vainly not to weep, When starting through my timid heart, the thought that thou couldst die, Shot, even amidst a mother's bliss, a pang of agony.

My boy! my boy! Oh cling not thus around me in thy grief, Thy mother's arm, thy mother's love, can yield thee no relief; The tiger's bloody jaw hath not a gripe more fierce and fell Than that which tears thee from my arms—thou who wert loved so well!

How may I live bereft of thee? Thy smile was all that flung A ray of gladness ‘midst the gloom, forever round me hung: How may a mother's heart endure to think upon thy fate, Thou doom'd to misery and chains!—so young and desolate!

Farewell! farewell!—They tear thee hence!—and yet my heart beats on; How can it bear the weight of life, when thou art from me gone? Mine own! mine own! Yet cruel hands have barter'd thee for gold, And torn thee, with a ruthless grasp, forever from my hold!