Elizabeth Margaret Chandler

“ I come to thee, my mother! the black sky
Is swollen with its thunder, and the air
Seems palpable with darkness, save when high,
The lurid lightning streams a ruddy glare
Across the heavens, rousing from their lair
The deep-voiced thunders! how the mounting storm
Strides o'er the firmament! yet I can dare
Its fiercest terrors, mother, that my arm
May wind its shield of love around thy sleeping form. ”

“ Chinese youth, whose mother felt great alarm during the prevalence
of a thunderstorm, and whose filial affection always prompted him
to be present with his mother on such occasions, and even after her
death to visit and remain at her grave, during their continuance. ”