The Step Mother

Well I recall my Father's wife, The day he brought her home. His children looked for years of strife, And troubles sure to come -- Ungraciously we welcomed her, A thing to scorn and blame; And swore we never would confer On her, a Mother's name I see her yet -- a girl in years, With eyes so blue and mild; She greeted us with smiles and tears, How sweetly too she smiled -- She bent to kiss my sullen brow, With woman's gentle grace; And laid her tiny hand of snow On my averted face -- "Henry -- is this your son? She said -- "Dear boy -- he now is mine -- What not one kiss? --" I shook my head, "I am no son of thine! --" She sighed -- and from her dimpled cheek The rosy colour fled; She turned away and did not speak, My thoughts were with the dead -- There leaped from out my Father's eyes A jet of swarthy fire; That flashed on me in fierce surprise -- I fled before his ire I heard her gentle voice entreat -- "Forgiveness for her sake" -- Which added swiftness to my feet, A sad and strange mistake -- A year had scarcely rolled away When by that hated bride; I loved to linger half the day, In very joy and pride; Her voice was music to mine ear, So soft its accent fell; "Dear Mother now" -- and oh, how dear No words of mine can tell -- She was so gentle, fair and kind, So pure in soul and free from art; That woman with her noble mind, Subdued my rebel heart -- I just had learned to know her worth, My Father's second choice to bless; When God removed her from the earth, And plunged us all in deep distress -- Hot fever smote with burning blight Stretchd on a restless bed of pain; I moaning lay from morn till night With aching limbs and throbbing brain -- Four weary weeks beside my bed, She sat within a darkened room; Untiring held my aching head, Nor heeded silence -- cold and gloom -- And when my courage quite gave way, And fainter grew my struggling breath; She taught my stricken soul to pray And calmly meet approaching death -- "Fear not God's angel, sent by Him, The weary spirit to release; Before the mortal eyes grow dim, Floats down the white winged dove of peace" -- There came a change -- but fingers small, No longer smoothed my matted hair; She sprang not to my feeble call, Nor helped to lift me to my chair -- And I arose as from the dead, A life for her dear life was given; The angel who had watched my bed Had vanished into Heaven! --