Ah me! My heart is choking up,

For comfort I cannot sit up;

The ground under my feet is burning, Ma.

Mother, break the coffin and come out, Ma.

And here come the rains in mid June,

Good when they start but bad their cold—

Alternate heat and cold is Afric's lot,

Survival of the fittest is the rule.

But today's cold is killing, Ma;

Hear the rains patter on the roof!

Biting cold brings reminding sorrow.

Mother, break the coffin and come out, Ma.

Now I know not how to call thee,

Both father and mother thou wert;

Still pray in the dark for thy loving touch,

Mother, break the coffin and come out, Ma.

My mouth's salty with tears of thee,

I no more thy sweet form behold;

I go round like fish in strange waters seen.

Mother, break the coffin and come out, Ma.

Dead leaves make the squalor and filth,

A rotten stenchy mud all over.

Most wonderful thou, detesting taint

Lie stately unmoved in such swampy sod.

I see thee only in mind's eye,

Better still I see thee in God.

God alone will sponge off these salty tears,

And make my lips sweet again to kiss thee.

In mind I conjure thee, darling.

What gruesome spectacle thy change;

Thy black loving eyes most mild and so sweet,

Have now sunk deeper than thy lonesome grave.

I shiver when such thoughts do come,

Fair unborn this doomed corruption tastes;

But truth it is, that flesh must pass such way,

A way so restful, but awe inspiring.

Orphan thou madest me by thy death,

Inured to thee ere this divide—

With thee and with father I loved so dear!

Oh! this life, that thins with advancing years!

The rains over, the sun shines bright,

With beams that soon will wet us all,

Rejuvenating the old with vigour.

Mother, come out and take the cold off, Ma.

But soon, the basking times over,

The earth becomes hot as baker's oven,

My feet are coal black with each step I take.

Would thou hadst windows on thy coffin too.