The Poetry Corner

Mater Dolorosa

By William Barnes

Id a dream to-night As I fell asleep, O! the touching sight Makes me still to weep: Of my little lad, Gone to leave me sad, Ay, the child I had, But was not to keep. As in heaven high, I my child did seek, There in train came by Children fair and meek, Each in lily white, With a lamp alight; Each was clear to sight, But they did not speak. Then, a little sad, Came my child in turn, But the lamp he had, O it did not burn! He, to clear my doubt, Said, half turnd about, Your tears put it out; Mother, never mourn.