Dedication — Sonnet
TO ELIZABETH, MY MOTHER.
The green Virginian hills were blithe in May,
And we were plucking violets—thou and I.
A transient gladness flooded earth and sky;
Thy fading strength seemed to return that day,
And I was mad with hope that God would stay
Death’s pale approach—Oh! all hath long passed by!
Long years! long years! and now, I well know why
Thine eyes, quick-filled with tears, were turned away.
First loved; first lost; my mother: time must still
Leave my soul’s debt uncancelled. All that’s best
In me and in my art is thine:—Me-seems
Even now, we walk afield. Through good and ill,
My sorrowing heart forgets not, and in dreams,
I see thee, in the sun-lands of the blest.
Footnote
43 By permission of the author, and publishers, the Cassell Publishing Co., N. Y.