Women of the Early Harlem Renaissance: African American Women Writers 1900-1922

To My Mother

Mother, Mother, how I loved thee!
And I know thou lov'dst me well;
But the gentle Saviour called thee
Home on high with saints to dwell.

Mother, gentlest of all creatures.
Patient, noble, just serene;
To me thou wert perfect, ideal;
Equal of thine, ne'er was seen.

Thou art gone! but not forgot by
Her who loved thee here on earth,
Mine the sorrow, but for thee of
Heavenly joy there is no dearth.

So I smile in resignation.
And repress the bitter pain
Since my great loss for a brief space,
Is for thee, eternal gain.


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