O call my bother back to me
This simple but touching poem I found in some old correspondence I was archiving recently. Curious, I googled the first line, and it seems to be a derivative of a more well-known poem:
I cannot play alone;
The summer comes with flower and bee -
Where is my brother gone?
The butterfly is glancing bright
Across the sunbeam's track;
I care not now to chase its flight -
Oh! call my brother back!
The flowers run wild - the flowers we sow'd
Around our garden tree;
Our vine is drooping with its load -
Oh! call him back to me!
"He would not hear thy voice, fair child!
He may not come to thee;
The face that once like spring-time smiled,
On earth no more thou 'lt see.
"A rose's brief, bright life of joy,
Such unto him was given:
Go - thou must play alone, my boy!
Thy brother is in heaven."
And has he left his birds and flowers;
And must I call in vain?
And through the long, long summer hours,
Will he not come again?
And by the brook and in the glade
Are all our wandering's o'er?
Oh! while my brother with me play'd,
Would I had loved him more!
Where is my dearest Tom
The leaves fall off from every tree
And winter soon will come.
My garden is forsaken now
I cannot work alone
I've laid aside my spade and hoe
Since Tom is far from home
As o'er the lawn I stray alone
As by the walnut tree
I think of you dear brother Tom
O do you think of me?
O call my brother back to me
I cannot play alone
The leaves fall off from every tree
And winter soon will come.
This simple but touching poem I found in some old correspondence I was archiving recently. Curious, I googled the first line, and it seems to be a derivative of a more well-known poem:
The Child's First Grief
Oh! call my brother back to me!I cannot play alone;
The summer comes with flower and bee -
Where is my brother gone?
The butterfly is glancing bright
Across the sunbeam's track;
I care not now to chase its flight -
Oh! call my brother back!
The flowers run wild - the flowers we sow'd
Around our garden tree;
Our vine is drooping with its load -
Oh! call him back to me!
"He would not hear thy voice, fair child!
He may not come to thee;
The face that once like spring-time smiled,
On earth no more thou 'lt see.
"A rose's brief, bright life of joy,
Such unto him was given:
Go - thou must play alone, my boy!
Thy brother is in heaven."
And has he left his birds and flowers;
And must I call in vain?
And through the long, long summer hours,
Will he not come again?
And by the brook and in the glade
Are all our wandering's o'er?
Oh! while my brother with me play'd,
Would I had loved him more!
Gone but never forgotten, my brother, Alex:
A sad day. May your memories bring some comfort and condolence.
ReplyDeleteSo handsome and debonair. So sorry. Goodness. I keep repeating that. So sorry.
ReplyDelete