POEMS.
63
Then when the eve of life declines,
And thou art called away,
May thy light there brightly shine,
In spirit-love with mother.
And thou art called away,
May thy light there brightly shine,
In spirit-love with mother.
Dear Willie, ere I bid adieu,
I trust that you'll remember
The one who penn'd these lines to yon,
Thy own true loving mother.
I trust that you'll remember
The one who penn'd these lines to yon,
Thy own true loving mother.
TO ANNA.
Farewell, Anna, from my home
You will pass unto another:
May you never too far roam
From thy own dear mother.
Ever keep her memory dear,
Wherever you may wander,—
O'er hill or dale, no one so near
As thy own gentle mother.
Wherever you may wander,—
O'er hill or dale, no one so near
As thy own gentle mother.
When griefs oppress or sorrows rend,
You'll find no one so tender,
And truly loving till life may end,
As thy own dearest mother.
You'll find no one so tender,
And truly loving till life may end,
As thy own dearest mother.
