Clarissa Abigail Proper a.k.a Clara McNaughton Poem # 1

Clara McNaughton was born in Hemmingford, Quebec on August 21, 1841.  She married Finlay McNaughton in 1864. They had 8 children. The eldest was William, who married Jane Latham. Their youngest daughter, Harriet Viola, was my Nanny.  Nanny referred to Clara as "Grandma McNaughton", however in the community she was known as "Aunt Clara". 

Clara and Finlay's second son, George Finlay McNaughton was born in 1867. He died at 9 years old from the measles. Clara expressed her grief at the loss of her son through poetry. The only record of her poetry that I am aware of is in my Nanny's handwriting, and is undated.


The following poem is untitled.

Cruel snow! So soft and light

You fall like lead on my heart tonight,

For you cover the ground.

And falling so still and white

You cruelly hide a mother's sight,

A little mound.

A little mound in the graveyard old

Lies hidden beneath your icy fold,

I see it not.

You bar my steps from wandering free

To that little spot so dear to me,

That scared spot. 

It is only a year ago today

At the window I watched the children play,

As snow came down. 

And a little boy in a suit of gray

Ran up and down with his little sleigh,

On the icy ground.

He shouted and ran in mirthful glee

And merrily tossed the flakes at me,

Of pure white snow.

And now and then as my darling passed

With his rosy face he pressed to the glass,

All health aglow.

O! God of Heaven can it be,

That little face not more I'll see?

Yes even so.

My darling boy is laid to rest

The earth is heaped above his breast,

Under the snow. 

A year later the following lines were added to the poem:

The snow has come again, but hark!

A something whispered to my heart

Dispels the gloom.

Winter will pass and spring shall come,

Blest sigh of Resurrection morn

Beyond the tomb.

Your darling boy happy awaits

Your coming at the pearly gates  

When life is o'er.

One of your flock is safe from harm

Folded within the Shepard's arm

To roam no more.  

~by Clara McNaughton

Clara's poem expresses not only her grief, but her faith. In the first half, you can feel the upset, but in the addition a year later she seems to be comforting herself with her belief that she will see her son in heaven. 

I can only imagine the depression after the loss of a child.  Though it was more prevalent in those times due to childhood diseases, was it more expected? Even if it was, I don't believe that would diminish the pain. Sadly, 4 years later Clara experienced more loss...