MY MOTHER.
Eyes, in whose welling depths would IWith wonder ofttimes gaze,And gazing smile, I scarce knew why,In those long-vanished days;Hand, that of old my pillow smoothedWhen fever burnt my brow,And all my infant sorrows soothedWith love—where are ye now?Hushed is the voice whose accents softWould cradle me to sleep;The eyes that lighted up so oftNo longer laugh—nor weep;The hand, before whose touch so deftSickness and care would flee,Is gone, and naught, alas! is leftSave memory to me.G. K. M.
Eyes, in whose welling depths would IWith wonder ofttimes gaze,And gazing smile, I scarce knew why,In those long-vanished days;Hand, that of old my pillow smoothedWhen fever burnt my brow,And all my infant sorrows soothedWith love—where are ye now?Hushed is the voice whose accents softWould cradle me to sleep;The eyes that lighted up so oftNo longer laugh—nor weep;The hand, before whose touch so deftSickness and care would flee,Is gone, and naught, alas! is leftSave memory to me.G. K. M.
Eyes, in whose welling depths would IWith wonder ofttimes gaze,And gazing smile, I scarce knew why,In those long-vanished days;Hand, that of old my pillow smoothedWhen fever burnt my brow,And all my infant sorrows soothedWith love—where are ye now?
E
yes, in whose welling depths would I
With wonder ofttimes gaze,
And gazing smile, I scarce knew why,
In those long-vanished days;
Hand, that of old my pillow smoothed
When fever burnt my brow,
And all my infant sorrows soothed
With love—where are ye now?
Hushed is the voice whose accents softWould cradle me to sleep;The eyes that lighted up so oftNo longer laugh—nor weep;The hand, before whose touch so deftSickness and care would flee,Is gone, and naught, alas! is leftSave memory to me.
Hushed is the voice whose accents soft
Would cradle me to sleep;
The eyes that lighted up so oft
No longer laugh—nor weep;
The hand, before whose touch so deft
Sickness and care would flee,
Is gone, and naught, alas! is left
Save memory to me.
G. K. M.
G. K. M.
“ALL MY INFANT SORROWS SOOTHED.”
“ALL MY INFANT SORROWS SOOTHED.”
“ALL MY INFANT SORROWS SOOTHED.”