Filial Affection.Iknownot if my mother’s eyesWould find me changed in slighter things;I’ve wandered beneath many skies,And tasted of some bitter springs;And many leaves, once fair and gay,From youth’s full flower have dropp’d away.But as these looser leaves depart,The lessen’d flower gets near the core,And when deserted quite, the heartTakes closer what was dear of yore;And yearns to those who loved it first,The sunshine and the dew by which its head was nurst.Dear mother! dost thou love me yet?Am I remember’d in my home?When those I love for joy are met,Does some one wish that I would come?Thou dost—Iambeloved of these!But, as the schoolboy numbers o’erNight after night the Pleiades,And finds the stars he found before;As turns the maiden oft her token;As counts the miser aye his gold;So, till life’s silver cord is broken,Would I of thy fond love be told:My heart is full, mine eyes are wet;Dear mother! dost thou love thy long-lost wanderer yet?Oh! when the hour to meet againCreeps on, and speeding o’er the sea,My heart takes up its lengthen’d chain,And link by link, draws nearer thee—When land is hail’d, and, from the shore,Comes off the blessed breath of home,With fragrance from my mother’s doorOf flowers forgotten, when I come—When port is gain’d, and slowly now,The old familiar paths are past,And entering, unconscious how,I gaze upon thy face at last,And run to thee, all faint and weak,And feel thy tears upon my cheek—Oh! if my heart break not with joy,The light of heaven will fairer seem;And I shall grow once more a boy;And, mother, ’twill be like a dreamThat we were parted thus for years;And, once that we have dried our tears,How will the days seem long and bright,To meet thee always with the morn,And hear thy blessing every night,Thy “dearest,” thy “first born!”And he no more, as now, in a strange land forlorn.
Filial Affection.Iknownot if my mother’s eyesWould find me changed in slighter things;I’ve wandered beneath many skies,And tasted of some bitter springs;And many leaves, once fair and gay,From youth’s full flower have dropp’d away.But as these looser leaves depart,The lessen’d flower gets near the core,And when deserted quite, the heartTakes closer what was dear of yore;And yearns to those who loved it first,The sunshine and the dew by which its head was nurst.Dear mother! dost thou love me yet?Am I remember’d in my home?When those I love for joy are met,Does some one wish that I would come?Thou dost—Iambeloved of these!But, as the schoolboy numbers o’erNight after night the Pleiades,And finds the stars he found before;As turns the maiden oft her token;As counts the miser aye his gold;So, till life’s silver cord is broken,Would I of thy fond love be told:My heart is full, mine eyes are wet;Dear mother! dost thou love thy long-lost wanderer yet?Oh! when the hour to meet againCreeps on, and speeding o’er the sea,My heart takes up its lengthen’d chain,And link by link, draws nearer thee—When land is hail’d, and, from the shore,Comes off the blessed breath of home,With fragrance from my mother’s doorOf flowers forgotten, when I come—When port is gain’d, and slowly now,The old familiar paths are past,And entering, unconscious how,I gaze upon thy face at last,And run to thee, all faint and weak,And feel thy tears upon my cheek—Oh! if my heart break not with joy,The light of heaven will fairer seem;And I shall grow once more a boy;And, mother, ’twill be like a dreamThat we were parted thus for years;And, once that we have dried our tears,How will the days seem long and bright,To meet thee always with the morn,And hear thy blessing every night,Thy “dearest,” thy “first born!”And he no more, as now, in a strange land forlorn.
Iknownot if my mother’s eyesWould find me changed in slighter things;I’ve wandered beneath many skies,And tasted of some bitter springs;And many leaves, once fair and gay,From youth’s full flower have dropp’d away.But as these looser leaves depart,The lessen’d flower gets near the core,And when deserted quite, the heartTakes closer what was dear of yore;And yearns to those who loved it first,The sunshine and the dew by which its head was nurst.Dear mother! dost thou love me yet?Am I remember’d in my home?When those I love for joy are met,Does some one wish that I would come?Thou dost—Iambeloved of these!But, as the schoolboy numbers o’erNight after night the Pleiades,And finds the stars he found before;As turns the maiden oft her token;As counts the miser aye his gold;So, till life’s silver cord is broken,Would I of thy fond love be told:My heart is full, mine eyes are wet;Dear mother! dost thou love thy long-lost wanderer yet?Oh! when the hour to meet againCreeps on, and speeding o’er the sea,My heart takes up its lengthen’d chain,And link by link, draws nearer thee—When land is hail’d, and, from the shore,Comes off the blessed breath of home,With fragrance from my mother’s doorOf flowers forgotten, when I come—When port is gain’d, and slowly now,The old familiar paths are past,And entering, unconscious how,I gaze upon thy face at last,And run to thee, all faint and weak,And feel thy tears upon my cheek—Oh! if my heart break not with joy,The light of heaven will fairer seem;And I shall grow once more a boy;And, mother, ’twill be like a dreamThat we were parted thus for years;And, once that we have dried our tears,How will the days seem long and bright,To meet thee always with the morn,And hear thy blessing every night,Thy “dearest,” thy “first born!”And he no more, as now, in a strange land forlorn.
Iknownot if my mother’s eyesWould find me changed in slighter things;I’ve wandered beneath many skies,And tasted of some bitter springs;And many leaves, once fair and gay,From youth’s full flower have dropp’d away.But as these looser leaves depart,The lessen’d flower gets near the core,And when deserted quite, the heartTakes closer what was dear of yore;And yearns to those who loved it first,The sunshine and the dew by which its head was nurst.Dear mother! dost thou love me yet?Am I remember’d in my home?When those I love for joy are met,Does some one wish that I would come?Thou dost—Iambeloved of these!But, as the schoolboy numbers o’erNight after night the Pleiades,And finds the stars he found before;As turns the maiden oft her token;As counts the miser aye his gold;So, till life’s silver cord is broken,Would I of thy fond love be told:My heart is full, mine eyes are wet;Dear mother! dost thou love thy long-lost wanderer yet?Oh! when the hour to meet againCreeps on, and speeding o’er the sea,My heart takes up its lengthen’d chain,And link by link, draws nearer thee—When land is hail’d, and, from the shore,Comes off the blessed breath of home,With fragrance from my mother’s doorOf flowers forgotten, when I come—When port is gain’d, and slowly now,The old familiar paths are past,And entering, unconscious how,I gaze upon thy face at last,And run to thee, all faint and weak,And feel thy tears upon my cheek—Oh! if my heart break not with joy,The light of heaven will fairer seem;And I shall grow once more a boy;And, mother, ’twill be like a dreamThat we were parted thus for years;And, once that we have dried our tears,How will the days seem long and bright,To meet thee always with the morn,And hear thy blessing every night,Thy “dearest,” thy “first born!”And he no more, as now, in a strange land forlorn.
Iknownot if my mother’s eyesWould find me changed in slighter things;I’ve wandered beneath many skies,And tasted of some bitter springs;And many leaves, once fair and gay,From youth’s full flower have dropp’d away.But as these looser leaves depart,The lessen’d flower gets near the core,And when deserted quite, the heartTakes closer what was dear of yore;And yearns to those who loved it first,The sunshine and the dew by which its head was nurst.
Iknownot if my mother’s eyes
Would find me changed in slighter things;
I’ve wandered beneath many skies,
And tasted of some bitter springs;
And many leaves, once fair and gay,
From youth’s full flower have dropp’d away.
But as these looser leaves depart,
The lessen’d flower gets near the core,
And when deserted quite, the heart
Takes closer what was dear of yore;
And yearns to those who loved it first,
The sunshine and the dew by which its head was nurst.
Dear mother! dost thou love me yet?Am I remember’d in my home?When those I love for joy are met,Does some one wish that I would come?Thou dost—Iambeloved of these!But, as the schoolboy numbers o’erNight after night the Pleiades,And finds the stars he found before;As turns the maiden oft her token;As counts the miser aye his gold;So, till life’s silver cord is broken,Would I of thy fond love be told:My heart is full, mine eyes are wet;Dear mother! dost thou love thy long-lost wanderer yet?
Dear mother! dost thou love me yet?
Am I remember’d in my home?
When those I love for joy are met,
Does some one wish that I would come?
Thou dost—Iambeloved of these!
But, as the schoolboy numbers o’er
Night after night the Pleiades,
And finds the stars he found before;
As turns the maiden oft her token;
As counts the miser aye his gold;
So, till life’s silver cord is broken,
Would I of thy fond love be told:
My heart is full, mine eyes are wet;
Dear mother! dost thou love thy long-lost wanderer yet?
Oh! when the hour to meet againCreeps on, and speeding o’er the sea,My heart takes up its lengthen’d chain,And link by link, draws nearer thee—When land is hail’d, and, from the shore,Comes off the blessed breath of home,With fragrance from my mother’s doorOf flowers forgotten, when I come—
Oh! when the hour to meet again
Creeps on, and speeding o’er the sea,
My heart takes up its lengthen’d chain,
And link by link, draws nearer thee—
When land is hail’d, and, from the shore,
Comes off the blessed breath of home,
With fragrance from my mother’s door
Of flowers forgotten, when I come—
When port is gain’d, and slowly now,The old familiar paths are past,And entering, unconscious how,I gaze upon thy face at last,And run to thee, all faint and weak,And feel thy tears upon my cheek—
When port is gain’d, and slowly now,
The old familiar paths are past,
And entering, unconscious how,
I gaze upon thy face at last,
And run to thee, all faint and weak,
And feel thy tears upon my cheek—
Oh! if my heart break not with joy,The light of heaven will fairer seem;And I shall grow once more a boy;And, mother, ’twill be like a dreamThat we were parted thus for years;And, once that we have dried our tears,How will the days seem long and bright,To meet thee always with the morn,And hear thy blessing every night,Thy “dearest,” thy “first born!”And he no more, as now, in a strange land forlorn.
Oh! if my heart break not with joy,
The light of heaven will fairer seem;
And I shall grow once more a boy;
And, mother, ’twill be like a dream
That we were parted thus for years;
And, once that we have dried our tears,
How will the days seem long and bright,
To meet thee always with the morn,
And hear thy blessing every night,
Thy “dearest,” thy “first born!”
And he no more, as now, in a strange land forlorn.