Huddersfield Chronicle (05/Sep/1891) - A Mother's Lament
The following is a transcription of a historic newspaper article and may contain occasional errors. If the article was published prior to 1 June 1957, then the text is likely in the Public Domain.
A MOTHER'S LAMENT.
- How happy we, last Whitsuntide,
For thou wert sitting by my side.
So welcome to thy native home,
My daughter dear, my hope and pride.
- I gazed upon thy smiling face,
And for thy future felt no fear ;
Fill'd with a fond maternal love,
I thought that thou had no compeer.
- What poor, short-sighted mortals we,
At best, now little we can tell ;
I dreamt not, when I kiss'd thy cheek,
That we had breathed our last farewell.
- When to thy distant Linthwaite home,
With tearful eyes thou didst depart,
I did my best to hide my grief
And smile farewell, though sad at heart.
- How oft at night I've thought of thee
And asked a blessing on thy head ;
But, now I'm tempted to despair,
For thou art resting with the dead.
- Oh, God ! that ought in manhood's form
Should do such foul and fiendish wrong.
That brutal passion should prevail
The weak be tortured by the strong.
- While mourning o'er thy cruel fate
My brain is fill'd with frenzy wild,
And, half demented, I exclaim
"Base monster! give me back my child."
- And in my agony I crave
A curse upon the villain's head,
Who rob'd my darling child of life
Then from the hands of justice fled.
- Exhausted, conquered, sick at heart,
I bow my head and humbly pray
That God will help me in my need,
And take this bitter cross away.
- Then dimly I begin to see
How useless 'tis to sigh and mourn,
That my dear child has gone for aye,
And never, never can return.
- A ray of hope dispels the gloom,
For faith and reason whisper me,
"Still do thy duty till life's end,
And you shall reunited be."
- Life's trials are the stepping-stones
By which our victories are won,
And I must learn to bear my cross,
And humbly say, "Thy will be done."
Newsome, September 1st, 1891