Sonnet 2 (Miscellaneous Sonnets)

Oh ! my dear mother, art thou still awake ?
Or art thou sleeping on thy Maker's arm, —
Waiting in slumber for the shrill alarm
Ordain'd to give the world its final shake?
Art thou with " interlunar night " opaque
Clad like a worm while waiting for its wings ;
Or doth the shadow of departed things
Dwell on thy soul as on a breezeless lake !
Oh ! would that I could see thee in thy heaven
For one brief hour, and know I was forgiven
For all the pain and doubt and rankling shame
Which I have caused to make thee weep or sigh.
Bootless the wish ! for where thou art on high,
Sin casts no shadow, sorrow hath no name.