The Child At Her Mother’s Grave by Eliza Lee Cabot Follen


In that little room of thine,
Sweet sleep has come to thee;
Ah, mother! dearest mother mine!
O, call me to that room of thine!
O, shut it not from me!

I would so gladly be with thee,
And be thy child again;
‘Tis cold and stormy here with me,
‘Tis warm, and, O, so still with thee!
Ah! let me, let me in!

Thou took’st me gladly once with thee,
So gladly held my hand;
O, see, thou hast forsaken me!
Take me this time again with thee
Into the heavenly land.

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