Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO A MOTHER, by JEAN REBOUL


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO A MOTHER, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: An angel with a radiant face
Last Line: Poor mother--thy sweet son is dead!
Alternate Author Name(s): Reboul De Nimes, Jean
Subject(s): Mothers


AN Angel with a radiant face
Did, bending o'er a cradle, seem
His own reflection there to trace,
As in the waters of a stream.

'Sweet child, whom my own looks invest,'
He said, 'O fly away with me;
Come, let us be together blest;
This earth is all unworthy thee.

'Here joy does always something crave;
The soul with pleasure pain allies;
The shouts of mirth their sadness have,
And keenest ecstasies their sighs.

'Fear is a guest at every feast;
No day so tranquil and serene,
From storm or wreck that threatened least,
The morrow can secure and screen.

'What? Shall afflictions, griefs, and fears
Trouble that brow so pure and true?
And by the bitterness of tears
Be faded those sweet eyes of blue?

'No, no! to the glad fields of space
With me thou shalt escape away;
God spares thee, by His kindly grace,
The days thou wast on earth to stay.

'Let none of those who with thee dwell
In sad and sable garment mourn,
But welcome thy last hour as well
As the first moment thou wast born.

'And let no cloud obscure a brow,
No word, no grief, a grave recall;
When one is pure and good as thou,
The last day is the best of all.'

And stretching out his wings of white
As thus he spake, the Angel sped
Into the realms of endless light.
Poor mother--thy sweet son is dead!





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