I.
Wailing, wailing, wailing,
the wind over land and sea–
And Willy’s voice in the
wind, ‘O mother, come out to me.’
Why should he call me to-night,
when he knows that I cannot go?
For the downs are as bright
as day, and the full moon stares at the snow.
II.
We should be seen, my dear;
they would spy us out of the town.
The loud black nights for
us, and the storm rushing over the down,
When I cannot see my own
hand, but am led by the creak of the chain,
And grovel and grope for
my son till I find myself drenched with the rain.
III.
Anything fallen again? nay–what
was there left to fall?
I have taken them home,
I have number’d the bones, I have hidden them all.
What am I saying? and what
are you? do you come as a spy?
Falls? what falls? who knows?
As the tree falls so must it lie.
IV.
Who let her in? how long
has she been? you–what have you heard?
Why did you sit so quiet?
you never have spoken a word.
O–to pray with me–yes–a
lady–none of their spies–
But the night has crept
into my heart, and begun to darken my eyes.
V.
Ah–you, that have lived
so soft, what should you know of the night,
The blast and the burning
shame and the bitter frost and the fright?
I have done it, while you
were asleep–you were only made for the day.
I have gather’d my baby
together–and now you may go your way.
VI.
Nay–for it’s kind of you,
Madam, to sit by an old dying wife.
But say nothing hard of
my boy, I have only an hour of life.
I kiss’d my boy in the prison,
before he went out to die.
‘They dared me to do it,’
he said, and he never has told me a lie.
I whipt him for robbing
an orchard once when he was but a child–
‘The farmer dared me to
do it,’ he said; he was always so wild–
And idle–and couldn’t be
idle–my Willy–he never could rest.
The King should have made
him a soldier, he would have been one of his best.
VII.
But he lived with a lot
of wild mates, and they never would let him be good;
They swore that he dare
not rob the mail, and he swore that he would;
And he took no life, but
he took one purse, and when all was done
He flung it among his fellows–I’ll
none of it, said my son.
VIII.
I came into court to the
Judge and the lawyers. I told them my tale,
God’s own truth–but they
kill’d him, they kill’d him for robbing the mail.
They hang’d him in chains
for a show–we had always borne a good name–
To be hang’d for a thief–and
then put away–isn’t that enough shame?
Dust to dust–low down–let
us hide! but they set him so high
That all the ships of the
world could stare at him, passing by.
God ’ill pardon the hell-black
raven and horrible fowls of the air,
But not the black heart
of the lawyer who kill’d him and hang’d him there.
IX.
And the jailer forced me
away. I had bid him my last goodbye;
They had fasten’d the door
of his cell. ‘O mother!’ I heard him cry.
I couldn’t get back tho’
I tried, he had something further to say,
And now I never shall know
it. The jailer forced me away.
X.
Then since I couldn’t but
hear that cry of my boy that was dead,
They seized me and shut
me up: they fasten’d me down on my bed.
‘Mother, O mother!’–he call’d
in the dark to me year after year–
They beat me for that, they
beat me–you know that I couldn’t but hear;
And then at the last they
found I had grown so stupid and still
They let me abroad again–but
the creatures had worked their will.
XI.
Flesh of my flesh was gone,
but bone of my bone was left–
I stole them all from the
lawyers–and you, will you call it a theft?–
My baby, the bones that
had suck’d me, the bones that had laughed and had cried–
Theirs? O no! they are mine–not
theirs–they had moved in my side.
XII.
Do you think I was scared
by the bones? I kiss’d ’em, I buried ’em all–
I can’t dig deep, I am old–in
the night by the churchyard wall.
My Willy ’ill rise up whole
when the trumpet of judgment ’ill sound,
But I charge you never to
say that I laid him in holy ground.
XIII.
They would scratch him up–they
would hang him again on the cursed tree.
Sin? O yes–we are sinners,
I know–let all that be,
And read me a Bible verse
of the Lord’s good will toward men–
‘Full of compassion and
mercy, the Lord’–let me hear it again;
‘Full of compassion and
mercy–long-suffering.’ Yes, O yes!
For the lawyer is born but
to murder–the Saviour lives but to bless.
He’ll never put on the black
cap except for the worst of the worst,
And the first may be last–I
have heard it in church–and the last may be first.
Suffering–O long-suffering–yes,
as the Lord must know,
Year after year in the mist
and the wind and the shower and the snow.
XIV.
Heard, have you? what? they
have told you he never repented his sin.
How do they know it? are
they his mother? are you of his kin?
Heard! have you ever heard,
when the storm on the downs began,
The wind that ’ill wail
like a child and the sea that ’ill moan like a man?
XV.
Election, Election and Reprobation–it’s
all very well.
But I go to-night to my
boy, and I shall not find him in Hell.
For I cared so much for
my boy that the Lord has look’d into my care,
And He means me I’m sure
to be happy with Willy, I know not where.
XVI.
And if he be lost–but to
save my soul, that is all your desire:
Do you think that I care
for my soul if my boy be gone to the fire?
I have been with God in
the dark–go, go, you may leave me alone–
You never have borne a child–you
are just as hard as a stone.
XVII.
Madam, I beg your pardon!
I think that you mean to be kind,
But I cannot hear what you
say for my Willy’s voice in the wind–
The snow and the sky so
bright–he used but to call in the dark,
And he calls to me now from
the church and not from the gibbet–for hark!
Nay–you can hear it yourself–it
is coming–shaking the walls–
Willy–the moon’s in a cloud–Good-night.
I am going. He calls.
Sir Alfred Tennyson