A Household Book of English Poetry: Selected and Arranged with Notes
General
A Household Book of English Poetry: Selected and Arranged with Notes
American poetry; English poetry
As we lay asleep, as we lay asleep,
My May and I, in our grave so deep,
As we lay asleep in the midnight mirk,
Under the shade of Our Lady’s Kirk, 40
I wakened up in the dead of night,
Though May, my daughter, lay warm and white,
And I heard the cry of a little one,
And I knew ’twas the voice of Hugh my son.
‘Mother, mother, come hither to me! 45
Mother, mother, come hither and see!
Mother, mother, mother dear,
Another mother is sitting here:
My body is bruised and my heart is sad,
But I speak my mind and call them bad; 50
I thirst and hunger night and day,
And were I strong I would fly away!’
I heard the cry, though my grave was deep,
And awoke from sleep, and awoke from sleep.
I awoke from sleep, I awoke from sleep, 55
Up I rose from my grave so deep;
The earth was black, but overhead
The stars were yellow, the moon was red;
And I walked along all white and thin,
And lifted the latch and entered in. 60
‘Mother, mother, and art thou here?
I know your face, and I feel no fear;
Raise me, mother, and kiss my cheek,
For oh I am weary, and sore, and weak.’
I smoothed his hair with a mother’s joy, 65
And he laughed aloud, my own brave boy;
I raised and held him on my breast,
Sang him a song and bade him rest.
‘Mother, mother, sing low to me;
I am sleepy now, and I cannot see!’ 70
I kissed him, and I could not weep,
As he went to sleep, as he went to sleep.
As I lay asleep, as I lay asleep,
With my girl and boy in my grave so deep,
As I lay asleep, I awoke in fear, 75
Awoke, but awoke not my children dear,
And heard a cry so low and weak
From a tiny voice that could not speak;
I heard the cry of a little one,
My bairn that could neither talk nor run, 80
My little little one, uncaressed,
Starving for lack of the milk of the breast;
And I rose from sleep and entered in,
And found my little one pinched and thin,
And crooned a song and hushed its moan, 85
And put its lips to my white breast-bone;
And the red, red moon that lit the place
Went white to look at the little face,
And I kissed and kissed, and I could not weep,
As it went to sleep, as it went to sleep. 90
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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