Mrs. S. A. Collins



His Mother

by Mrs. S. A. Collins

Written after the conviction of Walling

for the murder of Pearl Bryan.

  There were was oftentimes we see,

Two chums who seemed so wonderfully attached,

Room-mates at college, friends so true,

It seemed that they were rightly matched.

Each told the other all that passed

Outside the college halls,

And each was ready to assist

When should the other call

  But fate ofttimes is cruel!

It binds with cords of steel.

And causes deep and painful wounds

Which time can never heal

One of these boys commits a deed,

So dastardly a crime,

His friend is shocked and yet he tries

To hide the guilt just at the time.

  In doing this he makes himself

A prey to supposition.

Both are convicted, both must hang,

Unless a commutation.

An accomplice, so the sentence read,

To such an awful deed:

To hang him is the proper way,

So that others may take heed

  But he has an anxious mother,

Whose love for him holds true.

Believing he is innocent,

She tries what she can do

To prove it to the public,

Though the sentence has been read.

She risks her all in trying,

While bitter tears are shed.

  Through the evening, dark and gloomy,

With no light for her ahead,

Tottering form and eyes all tear stained,

On she moves with feeble tread.

To the home of yet another,'

Whose face as well bears sign of grief.

Such a meeting, such a pleading

With words which seem beyond belief.

  The one the mother of a convict.

Which is soon to meet his doom,

The other mourning for a daughter,

Not long ago laid in the tomb.

If we pause and think a moment

Of the sorrow of the two,

How our hearts for each will reach out

To heal the wounds again made new.

  The daughter left her home and mother,

Led by an influence strange but calm,

To meet the one which proved to be

A murderer in fiendish form.

How could this young girl's mother

Express one word of cheer!

She was seeking retribution

For the life of one so dear.

  And finding there no hope, no cheer,

She leaves that home in sorrow,

With a firm determination

To try again tomorrow.

When morning dawned, still crazed with grief,

She sent a messenger

To plead for justice for her boy,

Who was all the world to her.

  Nothing gained in this, she leaves

Her home alone and sad,

To plead as but a mother can,

From all the source she had;

Her plea has proved of some avail,

But now to what extent;

Four days of respite only four

From the governor is sent.

  The murderer must hang at date,

Fixed by the court to be;

Will a confession come at last,

To set the other free?

May God who rules the universe,

Bring about the truth, though late,

And if the boy is innocent,

Save him from such a fate.