Poems (Osgood)/To My Mother

by Frances Sargent Osgood

For works with similar titles, see To My Mother.

TO MY MOTHER.

Sweet mother! you fear while no longer you guide me,
 The Past will be lost in the Present's gay show;
But ah! whether joy or misfortune betide me,
 I love you too dearly, your love to forego!

I would not, for all that the Future can bring me,
 Forget the dear hours when I sat at your feet,
The song, that was sure of approval to sing thee,
 The look, that was always so loving to meet.

When I flew to your smile with each joyous emotion,
 But hid from your heart every sorrow I knew;—
Oh! wayward perhaps was my childish devotion;
 But it ne'er for a moment was cold or untrue.

And still, when the chill wing of wo darkens o'er me,
 I am grateful its shadow extends not to thee;
While if Praise thrill my heart or if joy smile before me,
 I sigh—"Could she know it, how glad she would be!"

Sweet mother! too fondly your darling you cherish'd,
 For me to forget you, wherever I go—
Ah no: not till memory's power has perish'd;
 I love you too dearly to turn from you so!