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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117609" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Chinese Son</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I come to thee, my mother! the black sky<br>Is swollen with its thunder, and the air<br>Seems palpable with darkness, save when high,<br>The lurid lightning streams a ruddy glare<br>Across the heavens, rousing from their lair<br>The deep-voiced thunders! how the mounting storm<br>Strides o'er the firmament! yet I can dare<br>Its fiercest terrors, mother, that my arm<br>May wind its shield of love around thy sleeping form.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What uproar! raging winds, and smiting hail,<br>The lightning's blaze, and deaf'ning thunder's crash,<br>Let loose at once for havoc! I should quail<br>Before the terrors of the forked flash,<br>Did not the thought of thee triumphant dash<br>All selfish fears aside, and bid me fly<br>To kneel beside thy grave; the rain-drops plash<br>Heavily round thee from the rifted sky;<br>Yet I am here, fear not—beside thy couch I lie.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou canst not hear me—the storm brings not now,<br>One terror to thy bosom—yet 't is sweet<br>To call to mind the smile, wherewith thy brow<br>Was wont in by-gone days my step to greet,<br>When o'er the earth the summer tempest beat,<br>And the loosed thunder shook the heavens—but when<br>Was there a look of mine that did not meet<br>A smile of love from thee? the world of men<br>A friend, like thou hast been, will never yield again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh! mother, mother, how could love like thine<br>Pass from the earth away! on other eyes,<br>The glances of maternal love will shine,<br>And still on other hearts the blessing lies,<br>That made mine blissful; yet far less they prize<br>That boon of happiness—and in their glee,<br>Around their spirits gather many ties<br>Of joy and tenderness—but all to me<br>That made the earth seem bright, is sepulchred with thee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They sometimes strive to lead me to the halls,<br>Where wine and mirth the fleeting moments wing,<br>But on my clouded spirit sadness falls,<br>More darkly then, than when the cave-glooms fling<br>Their shadows round me, and the night-winds sing<br>Through the torn rocks their melancholy dirge,<br>Or when as now the echoing thunder rings<br>O'er the wide heavens, and the mad gales urge<br>Unto an answering cry, the overmastering surge.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The storms of nature pass, and soon no trace<br>Is left to mark their ravage—but long years<br>Pass lingeringly onward, nor efface<br>The deep-cut channel of our burning tears,<br>Or aching scars, that wasting sorrow sears<br>Upon the breast: lo! even now, a gleam<br>Of moonlight through the broken clouds appears,<br>To bless the earth again. I fain would dream,<br>It was a smile of thine, to bless me with its beam.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Elizabeth+Margaret+Chandler">Elizabeth Margaret Chandler</a> from <i>Poetical Works</i><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117609" data-title="The Chinese Son de Elizabeth Margaret Chandler" data-description="I come to thee, my mother! the black sky/Is swollen with its thunder, and the air/Seems palpable with darkness, save when high,/The lurid lightning streams a ruddy glare/Across the heavens, rousing from their lair/The deep-voiced thunders! how the..."></div>
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