Explore "The Dying Mother" by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Come nearer to me, husband, / Now the aching leaves my breast, / But my eyes are dim and weary, / And to-night I fain would rest.
Clasp me closer to your bosom / Ere I calmly sleep in death; / With your arms enfolded round me / I would yield my parting breath.
Bring me now my darling baby, / God's own precious gift of love, / Tell her she must meet her mother / In the brighter world above.
When her little feet grow stronger / To walk life's paths untrod, / That earnest, true and hopeful, / She must lay her hands on God.
Tell my other little children / They must early seek His face; / That His love is a strong tower, / And His arms a hiding place.
Tell them -- but my voice grows fainter -- / Surely, husband, this is death -- / Tell them that their dying mother / Bless'd them with her latest breath.