At the Prison Hospital, St. Louis "Looking wishfully as if there was something still on his mind he said: 'My Mother was a good woman, too. She would treat a poor sick prisoner kindly, and if she were with your son she would kiss him.'" Lonely, dying among strangers, All his heart turned towards the South; Longing for his Mother's blessing, For her kisses on his mouth. For her arms once more to clasp him, Her soft hand upon his head, And the dear, old-time caresses, Ere he slumbered with the dead. Pleading, wistful eyes he turneth To a gentle face anear. Bending down with woman's pity, His low, dying words to hear. "Lady" said he,"At my Mother's If one sick, a prisoner lay, She would kindly watch beside him, As you watch by me today." "If your son, oh, she would soothe him, And would kiss him -- she is good;" Oh, the wishful glance upturned, All his meaning understood! Gently bent the lady, o'er him, While his dying lips she prest, "For your Mother's sake" she murmured -- Comforted, he sank to rest. Rest, that folds the hands forever -- Sleep, no mother's tears can start, Lo! two angels kissed him; Heeding the wild cry of his heart!

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Last modified 16-April-2001