"Autobiographies of great nations are written in three manuscripts – a book of deeds, a book of words, and a book of art. Of the three, I would choose the latter as truest testimony." - Sir Kenneth Smith, Great Civilisations

"I must write each day without fail, not so much for the success of the work, as in order not to get out of my routine." - Leo Tolstoy

I have never believed that one should wait until one is inspired because I think the pleasures of not writing are so great that if you ever start indulging them you will never write again. - John Updike

"The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another; and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it." - J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

Poetry is the shadow cast by our streetlight imaginations." - Lawrence Ferlinghetti


[Note - If any article requires updating or correction please notate this in the comment section. Thank you. - res]


Tuesday, June 6, 2017

Elizabeth Akers Allen - Rock Me to Sleep




Rock Me to Sleep
by Elizabeth Akers Allen

Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again just for tonight!
Mother, come back from the echoless shore,
Take me again to your heart as of yore;
Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care,
Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair;
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep; -
Rock me to sleep, mother, - rock me to sleep!

Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!
I am so weary of toil and of tears, -
Toil without recompense, tears all in vain, -
Take them, and give me my childhood again!
I have grown weary of dust and decay, -
Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away;
Weary of sowing for others to reap; -
Rock me to sleep, mother - rock me to sleep!


Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue,
Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you!
Many a summer the grass has grown green,
Blossomed and faded, our faces between:
Yet, with strong yearning and passionate pain,
Long I tonight for your presence again.
Come from the silence so long and so deep; -
Rock me to sleep, mother, - rock me to sleep!

Over my heart, in the days that are flown,
No love like mother-love ever has shone;
No other worship abides and endures, -
Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours:
None like a mother can charm away pain
From the sick soul and the world-weary brain.
Slumber’s soft calms o’er my heavy lids creep; -
Rock me to sleep, mother, - rock me to sleep!


Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold,
Fall on your shoulders again as of old;
Let it drop over my forehead tonight,
Shading my faint eyes away from the light;
For with its sunny-edged shadows once more
Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore;
Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep; -
Rock me to sleep, mother, – rock me to sleep!

Mother, dear mother, the years have been long
Since I last listened your lullaby song:
Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem
Womanhood’s years have been only a dream.
Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace,
With your light lashes just sweeping my face,
Never hereafter to wake or to weep; -
Rock me to sleep, mother, - rock me to sleep!



* * * * * * * * * * *



Elizabeth Akers Allen

Elizabeth Anne (Chase) Akers Allen (October 9, 1832 – August 7, 1911), initially writing as Florence Percy and Elizabeth Akers, was an American poet and journalist.

Writing career

She was born Elizabeth Anne Chase in 1832 in Strong, Maine. Her mother died when she was an infant, and her father moved the family to Farmington, where she attended Farmington Academy.
Her earliest poems are said to have been published when she was between 12 and 15 years old, under the pen name 'Florence Percy'. In 1855, using this pseudonym, she published her first book of poetry, Forest Buds from the Woods of Maine. She started contributing poems to the Atlantic Monthly in 1858. In 1866, she published her second collection, Poems, under the name of Elizabeth Akers. All subsequent volumes were published under the name Elizabeth Akers Allen.
For much of her career, Allen earned her living partly as a journalist. The success of her first book allowed her to travel in Europe in 1859–60. While in Europe she served as a correspondent for the Portland Transcript and the Boston Evening Gazette. In 1874, she moved to Portland, Maine, where she spent seven years as the literary editor of the Daily Advertiser. She was a member of the professional women's club Sorosis, which had many writer members.
Allen is best known for the first couplet of her sentimental poem "Rock Me to Sleep, Mother" (1859), which was written during her European sojourn and first published in the Saturday Evening Post of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Though it is not considered her finest work, it was very popular during the Civil War, and for some years she was forced to dispute its authorship with a number of claimants. The first couplet runs:
Backward, turn backward, O time, in thy flight;
Make me a child again, just for to-night.
During the Civil War, in 1863, Allen had an appointment as a government clerk in the War Office in Washington, D.C., and also worked as a nurse.
She move to Tuckahoe, New York in 1881 and died there in 1911.
Her papers are held by Colby College.

Personal life

In 1851 she married Marshall S. M. Taylor, but he abandoned her and their infant daughter and they were divorced in 1857.
She married Paul Akers, a Maine sculptor whom she had met in Rome, in 1860; he died of tuberculosis in 1861. Their only child died shortly afterwards.
In 1865 or 1866 she married Elijah M. Allen and they lived in Richmond, Virginia, and Ridgewood, New Jersey, before settling in New York.

Selected publications

  • Forest Buds from the Woods of Maine (1855, as Florence Percy)
  • Poems (1866, as Elizabeth Akers)
  • Queen Catharine's Rose (1885)
  • The Silver Bridge, and Other Poems (1885)
  • Two Saints (1888)
  • The High-Top Sweeting, and Other Poems (1891)
  • The Proud Lady of Stavoven (1897)
  • The Ballad of the Bronx (1901)
  • The Sunset Song, and Other Verses (1902)

2 comments:

  1. I’ve read many explanations of this emotive poem. The general consensus seems to be that the poem is about a woman wanting to go back into her childhood to recapture the relationship she had with her mother. I’ve always read it as a woman who is faced with a mother who is dying, and is trying to bring her mother back to consciousness with memories, or as a daughter who is trying to reach out to a mother who has dementia. Any way it’s interpreted, it’s a very emotive poem.

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  2. On reading the poem again I find it's memories sharp and pained with longing of the many lost years of a grown child wisting for her dear mother in the final moments of life. Of growing through the years, raising a family and alone in her task even as her mother may have been. It is pointed, poignant, and filled with the deep abyss once shared between a mother and her child. Blessings. - res

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