She said—“Oh! mother dear!
I dread that I shall die
Too soon, and go to heaven alone,
And leave you here to cry!”
“My darling! if you do,
You will be always blest;
The angels there will play with you,
And lull you, love, to rest!”
“Oh, no! it may be bright,
A pleasant place and fair;
But how can I be glad, and play?
I’ll have no mother there!”
“My Ellen! if you stay
In this sad world of ours,
You’ll often weep woe’s bitter tears
Above its fairest flowers!”
“Dear mother! yet I’d stay;
For oh! so much I love you,
I’d rather grieve with you, on earth,
Than joy, in heaven, above you!”
