VII.

When the flowers come again, mother, beneath the waning light

You'll never see me more in the long gray fields at night; When from the dry dark wold the summer airs blow cool On the oat-grass and the sword-grass, and the bulrush in the pool.

VIII.

You'll bury me, my mother, just beneath the hawthorn shade,

And you'll come sometimes and see me where I am lowly laid.

I shall not forget you, mother, I shall hear you when you

I have been wild and wayward, but you'll forgive me now; You'll kiss me, my own mother, and forgive me ere I go ; Nay, nay, you must not weep, nor let your grief be wild, You should not fret for me, mother, you have another child.

X.

If I can I'll come again, mother, from out my resting

place;

Though you'll not see me, mother, I shall look upon your

face ;

Though I cannot speak a word, I shall harken what you

say,

And be often, often with you when you

think I'm far away.

XI.

Goodnight, goodnight, when I have said goodnight for

evermore,

And you see me carried out from the threshold of the door; Don't let Effie come to see me till my grave be growing

green:

She'll be a better child to you than ever I have been.

XII.

She'll find my garden-tools upon the granary floor :
Let her take 'em they are hers: I shall never garden

more:

But tell her, when I'm gone, to train the rose-bush that

I set

About the parlour-window and the box of mignonette.

XIII.

Good-night, sweet mother: call me before the day is born.
All night I lie awake, but I fall asleep at morn;
But I would see the sun rise upon the glad New-year,
So, if you're waking, call me, call me early, mother dear.

CONCLUSION.

I.

I THOUGHT to pass away before, and yet alive I am;
And in the fields all round I hear the bleating of the lamb.
How sadly, I remember, rose the morning of the year!
To die before the snowdrop came, and now the violet's
here.

II.

O sweet is the new violet, that comes beneath the skies, And sweeter is the young lamb's voice to me that cannot

rise,

And sweet is all the land about, and all the flowers that

blow,

And sweeter far is death than life to me that long to go.

III.

It seemed so hard at first, mother, to leave the blessed sun, And now it seems as hard to stay, and yet His will be

done!

But still I think it can't be long before I find release ; And that good man, the clergyman, has told me words. of peace.

IV.

O blessings on his kindly voice and on his silver hair! And blessings on his whole life long, until he meet me there!

O blessings on his kindly heart and on his silver head! A thousand times I blest him, as he knelt beside my bed.

V.

He taught me all the mercy, for show'd he me all the sin. Now, though my lamp was lighted late, there's One will let me in:

Nor would I now be well, mother, again, if that could be, For my desire is but to pass to Him that died for me.

VI.

I did not hear the dog howl, mother, or the death-watch

beat,

There came a sweeter token when the night and morning

meet:

But sit beside my bed, mother, and put your hand in mine, And Effie on the other side, and I will tell the sign.

VII.

All in the wild March-morning I heard the angels call; It was when the moon was setting, and the dark was over all ;

The trees began to whisper, and the wind began to roll, And in the wild March-morning I heard them call my soul.

VIII.

For lying broad awake I thought of you and Effie dear; I saw you sitting in the house, and I no longer here; With all my strength I pray'd for both, and so I felt resign'd,

And

up the valley came a swell of music on the wind.

IX.

I thought that it was fancy, and I listen'd in my bed, And then did something speak to me-I know not what was said;

For great delight and shuddering took hold of all my

mind,

And up the valley came again the music on the wind.

X.

But you were sleeping; and I said, "It's not for them: it's mine."

And if it comes three times, I thought, I take it for a sign.