ORA’S DEEP LAMENT

© Kathlyne Walkup Sheppard, 23 June, 2022

She laid her babes ‘neath sandy soil
Among the pines so tall.
Their hands she folded o’er each breast
Their eyelids she did close.
A muslin shroud enfolded each
Within the coffin crude,
The wild Scrub flow’rs so sweet and dear
‘Twas Ora’s twined bouquet.

One by one she buried them
As seasons came and went.
The little ones they did not live
And one, he took no breath.
Frail sickly children they was born
To th’ Savior she did plead,
As angels hovered over them
She sang this woeful song.

Chorus
And oft she went and there did trod
The path that sorrow made.
Among the ferns she took her pause
And prayed for ease of heart.
She did recall each tiny soul
And spake each bornin’ name;
The wild-flow-ers she laid them down,
She laid them gently down…

There was no choir nor epithet,
No life they could exalt.
There only was one comfort known
In this vast wilderness.
As eagles soared high in the sky
Above the cabin crude
The black crow called his mournin’ cry
While the lonely Whippoorwill sang.

And each dark night a doe comes near
And searches for her fawn;
And from the Glen to Pat’s Island
‘Neath Black Jack, pine and oak,
Two mothers guard their sleepin’ babes
So young, so sweet, so still…
Creation groans while swells the song
Of Ora’s deep lament.

Chorus
And oft she went and there did trod
The path that sorrow made.
Among the ferns she took her pause
And prayed for ease of heart.
She did recall each tiny soul
And spake each bornin’ name;
The wildflowers she laid them down,
She laid them gently down.