Thank you for visiting SNEWPapers!
Sign up free
Poem
September 2, 1815
Virginia Argus
Richmond, Virginia
What is this article about?
A reflective elegy on the death of the speaker's mother, contrasting youthful joys with life's sorrows and finding solace at her green grave amid renewing spring nature. The speaker yearns for death to reunite them. By Montgomery.
Clipping
OCR Quality
70%
Good
Full Text
FREE GRIS:
Once more the loud tempest at distance reposes,
Since winter has fled to his now cover'd cave;
And light-footed May weaves her garland of roses,
To strew on the turf of my Mother's Green Grave.
How soft is the sigh that awakes retrospection,
For a moment to dwell on the days that are past!
Yet deeper the pang of renowned recollection,
That youth's blooming tints were too lovely to last.
For the heart then sporting, thought not of tomorrow,
Nor mark'd the thick clouds that frown'd dark
O'er the wave.
For the bright laughing eye shed the dew-drop
of sorrow,
That now would fain hallow my Mother's Green
Grave.
But life's rapid tide, with its wide swelling anguish,
Has engulfed the sweet prospects that smiled
from afar,
And left their pursuer deserted, to languish,
A prey to vain hopes, disappointment and care.
Yet though deep in misfortune's dark mazes be night,
The pilgrim of passion-of error the slave,
In the midst of its tumults, the heart is delighted:
To breathe its sad sighs o'er a Mother's Green
Grave.
Now no more by my childhood's fond guardian attended,
Who has watch'd my light steps when they
wander'd astray,
I seek the low mound where her form has descended,
With the "clod of the valley" to moulder away.
And this mansion of solitude, silent and dreary,
In an alms for the poor toward pray
To the wanderer an
But more sacred than these—lies my Mother's
Green Grave.
Long beside this lov'd spot the first blossoms shall flourish,
That look forth from the tomb at the summons
of spring!
And tear of affection the fragrance shall nourish;
And the dove hover round, on her dew moist
wing.
Oh alas, may I press the same humble pillow.
No longer exposed on time's turbulent wave
From my Labors reclining, beneath the same willow.
Whose branches droop low o'er my Mother's
Green Grave.
Ah! then shall I hail her long lost benediction;
And those verdant retreats her dear presence restore,
Where death shall invade this lone couch of affliction,
And brandish his dart o'er the wretched poor.
MONTGOMERY.
Once more the loud tempest at distance reposes,
Since winter has fled to his now cover'd cave;
And light-footed May weaves her garland of roses,
To strew on the turf of my Mother's Green Grave.
How soft is the sigh that awakes retrospection,
For a moment to dwell on the days that are past!
Yet deeper the pang of renowned recollection,
That youth's blooming tints were too lovely to last.
For the heart then sporting, thought not of tomorrow,
Nor mark'd the thick clouds that frown'd dark
O'er the wave.
For the bright laughing eye shed the dew-drop
of sorrow,
That now would fain hallow my Mother's Green
Grave.
But life's rapid tide, with its wide swelling anguish,
Has engulfed the sweet prospects that smiled
from afar,
And left their pursuer deserted, to languish,
A prey to vain hopes, disappointment and care.
Yet though deep in misfortune's dark mazes be night,
The pilgrim of passion-of error the slave,
In the midst of its tumults, the heart is delighted:
To breathe its sad sighs o'er a Mother's Green
Grave.
Now no more by my childhood's fond guardian attended,
Who has watch'd my light steps when they
wander'd astray,
I seek the low mound where her form has descended,
With the "clod of the valley" to moulder away.
And this mansion of solitude, silent and dreary,
In an alms for the poor toward pray
To the wanderer an
But more sacred than these—lies my Mother's
Green Grave.
Long beside this lov'd spot the first blossoms shall flourish,
That look forth from the tomb at the summons
of spring!
And tear of affection the fragrance shall nourish;
And the dove hover round, on her dew moist
wing.
Oh alas, may I press the same humble pillow.
No longer exposed on time's turbulent wave
From my Labors reclining, beneath the same willow.
Whose branches droop low o'er my Mother's
Green Grave.
Ah! then shall I hail her long lost benediction;
And those verdant retreats her dear presence restore,
Where death shall invade this lone couch of affliction,
And brandish his dart o'er the wretched poor.
MONTGOMERY.
What sub-type of article is it?
Elegy
What themes does it cover?
Death Mourning
Nature Seasons
What keywords are associated?
Mothers Grave
Mourning
Recollection
Youth
Misfortune
Sorrow
Nature
Death
Spring
Blossoms
What entities or persons were involved?
Montgomery
Poem Details
Author
Montgomery
Subject
Mourning The Mother
Key Lines
To Strew On The Turf Of My Mother's Green Grave.
Yet Deeper The Pang Of Renowned Recollection, That Youth's Blooming Tints Were Too Lovely To Last.
To Breathe Its Sad Sighs O'er A Mother's Green Grave.
Long Beside This Lov'd Spot The First Blossoms Shall Flourish, That Look Forth From The Tomb At The Summons Of Spring!
Whose Branches Droop Low O'er My Mother's Green Grave.