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

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

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)

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

Rock Me To Sleep, Mother

Biography of Elizabeth Akers Allen

http://www.poemhunter.com/elizabeth-akers-allen/biography/

Elizabeth Chase Akers Allen (October 9, 1832, Strong, Maine – August 7, 1911, Tuckahoe, New York) was an American author, journalist and poet. Born Elizabeth Anne Chase, she grew up in Farmington, Maine, where she attended Farmington Academy. She began to write at the age of fifteen, under the pen name Florence Percy, and in 1855 published under that name a volume of poems entitled Forest Buds. In 1851 she married Marshall S. M. Taylor, but they were divorced within a few years. In subsequent years she travelled through Europe; in Rome she became acquainted with the feminist Paulina Kellogg Wright Davis. While in Europee she served as a correspondent for the Portland Transcript and the Boston Evening Gazette. She started contributing to the Atlantic Monthly in 1858[1]. She married Paul Akers, a Maine sculptor whom she had met in Rome, in 1860; he died in 1861. In 1865 she married E. M. Allen, of New York. In 1866 a collection of her poems was published in Boston.

Elizabeth Akers Allen's Works:

• Forest Buds from the Woods of Maine (1855)
• Poems (1866-1869)
• Queen Catharine's Rose (1885)
• The Silver Bridge (1885)
• Two Saints (1888)
• The High-Top Sweeting (1891)
• The Proud Lady of Stavoven (1897)
• The Ballad of the Bronx (1901)
• The Sunset Song (1902)

Elizabeth Akers Allen Poems:

Rock Me To Sleep

Backward, turn backward, O time, in your flight; Make me a child again, just for tonight! Mother, come back from that echoless shore;

At Last

At last, when all the summer shine That warmed life's early hours is past, Your loving fingers seek for mine

Morning Glories

Oh, dainty daughters of the dawn, most delicate of flowers, How fitly do ye come to deck day's most delicious hours! Evoked by morning's earliest breath, your fragile cups unfold Before the light has cleft the sky, or edged the world with gold.

Little Feet

Two little feet, so small that both may nestle In one caressing hand, - Two tender feet upon the untried border Of life's mysterious land.

In A Garret

THIS realm is sacred to the silent past; Within its drowsy shades are treasures rare Of dust and dreams; the years are long since last

Witch Hazel

The last lone aster in the wood has died, And taken wings, and flown; The sighing oaks, the evergreens' dark pride, And shivering beeches, keep their leaves alone.

Lost Light

My heart is chilled and my pulse is slow, But often and often will memory go, Like a blind child lost in a waste of snow,

Bringing Our Sheaves With Us

The time for toil is past, and night has come, The last and saddest of the harvest-eves; Worn out with labor long and wearisome, Drooping and faint, the reapers hasten home, Each laden with his sheaves.

Until Death

Make me no vows of constancy, dear friend, To love me, though I die, thy whole life long, And love no other till thy days shall end -

Left Behind

It was the autumn of the year; The strawberry-leaves were red and sere; October's airs were fresh and chill, When, pausing on the windy hill,

Snow

Lo, what wonders the day hath brought, Born of the soft and slumbrous snow! Gradual, silent, slowly wrought;

Truth And Beauty

Strange Truth and Beauty are enemies, Treading forever on each other's toes! Strange rhymes are always made of that which is

The Last Landlord

YOU who dread the cares and labors Of the tenant’s annual quest, You who long for peace and rest,

Sea-Birds

O lonesome sea-gull, floating far Over the ocean's icy waste, Aimless and wide thy wanderings are, Forever vainly seeking rest: -