My Dear Old Mother.My dear old mother and I did partWhen I was very young;Her memory still clings round my heart,As charming visions roam.They tell me of my mother’s form—She watch’d me while I slept,And with her soft and gentle handShe wiped the tears I wept.And that same hand that held my ownWhen I began to walk,And the joy that sparkled in my eyesWhen I began to talk;I remember, too, when I was ill,She kiss’d my burning brow;And the tears that fell upon my cheekI think I feel them now.And then she always knelt by me—How gloomy was that day!She put her hand up to her breast,And taught me how to pray.Oh! mother, mother, in this breastThy image still shall be,And I will love thee to the last,And always think of thee.
My Dear Old Mother.My dear old mother and I did partWhen I was very young;Her memory still clings round my heart,As charming visions roam.They tell me of my mother’s form—She watch’d me while I slept,And with her soft and gentle handShe wiped the tears I wept.And that same hand that held my ownWhen I began to walk,And the joy that sparkled in my eyesWhen I began to talk;I remember, too, when I was ill,She kiss’d my burning brow;And the tears that fell upon my cheekI think I feel them now.And then she always knelt by me—How gloomy was that day!She put her hand up to her breast,And taught me how to pray.Oh! mother, mother, in this breastThy image still shall be,And I will love thee to the last,And always think of thee.
My Dear Old Mother.My dear old mother and I did partWhen I was very young;Her memory still clings round my heart,As charming visions roam.They tell me of my mother’s form—She watch’d me while I slept,And with her soft and gentle handShe wiped the tears I wept.And that same hand that held my ownWhen I began to walk,And the joy that sparkled in my eyesWhen I began to talk;I remember, too, when I was ill,She kiss’d my burning brow;And the tears that fell upon my cheekI think I feel them now.And then she always knelt by me—How gloomy was that day!She put her hand up to her breast,And taught me how to pray.Oh! mother, mother, in this breastThy image still shall be,And I will love thee to the last,And always think of thee.
My dear old mother and I did partWhen I was very young;Her memory still clings round my heart,As charming visions roam.They tell me of my mother’s form—She watch’d me while I slept,And with her soft and gentle handShe wiped the tears I wept.
My dear old mother and I did part
When I was very young;
Her memory still clings round my heart,
As charming visions roam.
They tell me of my mother’s form—
She watch’d me while I slept,
And with her soft and gentle hand
She wiped the tears I wept.
And that same hand that held my ownWhen I began to walk,And the joy that sparkled in my eyesWhen I began to talk;I remember, too, when I was ill,She kiss’d my burning brow;And the tears that fell upon my cheekI think I feel them now.
And that same hand that held my own
When I began to walk,
And the joy that sparkled in my eyes
When I began to talk;
I remember, too, when I was ill,
She kiss’d my burning brow;
And the tears that fell upon my cheek
I think I feel them now.
And then she always knelt by me—How gloomy was that day!She put her hand up to her breast,And taught me how to pray.Oh! mother, mother, in this breastThy image still shall be,And I will love thee to the last,And always think of thee.
And then she always knelt by me—
How gloomy was that day!
She put her hand up to her breast,
And taught me how to pray.
Oh! mother, mother, in this breast
Thy image still shall be,
And I will love thee to the last,
And always think of thee.