Paa min Moders Grav,
da hun nylig var jordet.
Mai 1800.
Det er forbi!
Jorden ruger paa dit Bryst i Gravens Giemme.
De ile hver til Sit, som fulgte dig;
Kun Kirkeklokken lyder sørgelig,
Og døver lydende min brudte Stemme.
Det er forbi!
Kulde sover i dit før saa varme Hierte,
Som slog for mig med ømme Moderslag.
O, evig mindes jeg den skumle Dag,
Da skiælvende det brast i Dødens Smerte.
Du var mig huld!
Faa kun elske mig paa denne mørke Klode;
Du elskte mig — og reves fra min Favn,
Nu staaer jeg bleg ved Mindet om mit Savn,
Jeg seer dig aldrig, aldrig meer, du Gode!
Paa haarde Fiel
Koldt og blegt dit elskte Legem hviler.
O, Moder! end i Døden var du blid,
Du salig laae som Himlens Engel hvid,
Jeg seer dig end paa Baaren, hvor du smiler!
Jeg trykker end
Hede Kys paa dine kolde Arme,
Som sank i Dødens Kamp saa kraftesløse ned.
O, de har baaret mig i Barndoms Kraftløshed,
Og favnet mig med Moderømheds Varme!
Jeg stirrer end
Modløs paa dit lukte, brustne Øie.
Det smiler aldrig til den arme Yngling meer,
Det nedsank koldt og mørkt, som Gravens Leer,
For aldrig meer at straale til den Høie.
Det er forbi!
Klokken tier. Jorden ei dig savner.
O, sov da sødt! Den Siæl, du skienkte mig,
Skal varmt og veemodsfuldt erindre dig,
Indtil forklaret hisset jeg dig savner.
On my Mother’s Grave,
when she had just been buried.
May 1800.
’Tis over now!
In grave’s dark chamber on your breast death broods.
Your followers all go their separate ways;
Only the mournful church bell swings and sways,
Its tolling my poor broken voice excludes.
’Tis over now!
Cold sleeps in your once warm and tender heart,
Whose loving beat my own heart did enthrall.
Oh, always I’ll that dismal day recall
When in Death’s agony it broke apart.
You held me dear!
On this dark planet few love me, I know.
You loved me – yet are wrenched now from my arms,
I pale whenever loss of you alarms,
Forever, dearest, I must you forgo!
On rock most hard
Your much-loved body rests now, cold and pale.
O, Mother! lovely even on your bier,
You lay like some white angel while yet here,
A smile still on your lips in Death’s dark vale.
Hot kisses still
I press against your arms which now are cold
And in Death’s final throes sank weak and drawn.
Oh, in my childhood’s weakness me they’ve borne,
And with a mother’s warmth ne’er ceased to hold!
Dejectedly,
I contemplate your closed and broken eyes.
Which at the poor young man will smile no more,
Which sank, as cold and dark as grave’s clay floor
And never more will gaze up to the skies.
’Tis over now!
The clock falls silent, Earth will never miss you.
Oh, soundly sleep! The soul you gave to me
Will warmly think of you, though woefully,
Until beyond the grave I’ll always miss you.
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