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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=395934" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Mother's Funeral</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then died, lamented, in the strength of life, <br>A valued mother, and a faithful wife:<br>Call'd not away, when time had loosed each hold<br>On the fond heart, and each desire grew cold;<br>But when, to all that knit us to our kind,<br>She felt fast bound, as charity can bind; -<br>Not when the ills of age, its pain, its care,<br>The drooping spirit for its fate prepare; <br>And, each affection failing, leaves the heart<br>Loosed from life's charm, and willing to depart; -<br>But all her ties the strong invader broke,<br>In all their strength, by on tremendous stroke!<br>Sudden and swift the eager pest came on,<br>And terror grew, till every hope was gone;<br>Still those around appear'd for hope to seek:<br>But view'd the sick, and were afraid to speak.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Slowly they bore, with solemn step, the dead;<br>When grief grew loud, and bitter tears were shed,<br>My part began: a crowd drew near the place,<br>Awe in each eye, alarm in every face;<br>So swift the ill, and of so fierce a kind,<br>That fear with pity mingled in each mind;<br>Friends with the husband came, their griefs to blend;<br>For good-man Frankford was to all a friend.<br>The last-born boy they held above the bier;<br>He knew not grief, but cries express'd his fear;<br>Each different age and sex reveal'd its pain,<br>In now a louder, now a lower strain!<br>While the meek father, listening to their tones,<br>Swell'd the full cadence of the grief by groans.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The elder sister strove her pangs to hide,<br>And soothing words to younger minds applied:<br>'Be still, be patient;' oft she strove to say,<br>But fail'd as oft, and weeping turn'd away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Curious and sad, upon the fresh-dug hill,<br>The village lads stood melancholy still;<br>And idle children, wandering to and fro,<br>As nature guided, took the tone of woe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Arrived at home, how then they gazed around,<br>In every place - where she - no more was found: -<br>The seat at table she was wont to fill;<br>The fireside chair, still set, but vacant still;<br>The garden-walks, a labour all her own;<br>The latticed bower, with trailing shrubs o'ergrown;<br>The Sunday pew she fill'd with all her race, -<br>Each place of hers was now a sacred place:<br>That, while it call'd up sorrows in the eyes,<br>Pierced the full heart, and forced them still to rise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=George+Crabbe">George Crabbe</a><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=395934" data-title="The Mother's Funeral de George Crabbe" data-description="Then died, lamented, in the strength of life, 
A valued mother, and a faithful wife:
Call'd not away, when time had loosed each hold
On the fond heart, and each desire grew cold;
But when, to all that knit us to our kind,
She felt fast bound, as c..."></div>
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