"My Mother", from <ref target="http://harlemshadows.org">Harlem Shadows: A Digital Edition</ref> This file is produced from the material at Harlem Shadows: A Digital Edition December 6, 2015 Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommerical 4.0 International This file is generated from a master file containing the text of Claude McKay's 1922 collection of poems Harlem Shadows and related documents (other appearances of McKay's poems, reviews, and related material). The base text for this file is drawn from the item listed below. Claude McKay My Mother Harlem Shadows New York Harcourt, Brace, and Company 1922 26-27 My Mother I Reg wished me to go with him to the field, I paused because I did not want to go; But in her quiet way she made me yield Reluctantly, for she was breathing low. Her hand she slowly lifted from her lap And, smiling sadly in the old sweet way, She pointed to the nail where hung my cap. Her eyes said: I shall last another day. But scarcely had we reached the distant place, When o'er the hills we heard a faint bell ringing; A boy came running up with frightened face; We knew the fatal news that he was bringing. I heard him listlessly, without a moan, Although the only one I loved was gone. II The dawn departs, the morning is begun, The trades come whispering from off the seas, The fields of corn are golden in the sun, The dark-brown tassels fluttering in the breeze; The bell is sounding and the children pass, Frog-leaping, skipping, shouting, laughing shrill, Down the red road, over the pasture-grass, Up to the school-house crumbling on the hill. The older folk are at their peaceful toil, Some pulling up the weeds, some plucking corn, And others breaking up the sun-baked soil. Float, faintly-scented breeze, at early morn Over the earth where mortals sow and reap— Beneath its breast my mother lies asleep.