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Who fed me from her gentle breast, And hushed me in her arms to rest, And on my cheek sweet kisses pressed ?
When sleep forsook my open eye,
Who sat and watched my infant head,
When pain and sickness made me cry,
Who dressed my doll in clothes so gay, And taught me pretty how to play, And minded all I had to say?
Who ran to help me when I fell,
Who taught my infant lips to pray, And love God's holy book and day, And walk in wisdom's Pleasant way?
And can I ever cease to be,
Ah! no, the thought I cannot bear, And if God please my life to spare, I hope I shall reward thy care,
When thou art feeble, old, and gray, My healthy arms shall be thy stay, And I will soothe thy pains away,
And when I see thee hang thy head, 'T will be my turn to watch thy bed, And tears of sweet affection shed,
For God, who lives above the skies, Would look with vengeance in his eyes, If I should ever dare despise
I THOUGHT it was the little bed
I slept in long ago ;
And two smooth knobs below.
I thought I saw the nursery fire,
And in a chair well-known My mother sat, and did not tire
With reading all alone.
If I should make the slightest sound
To show that I'm awake, She'd rise, and lap the blankets round,
My pillow softly shake;
Kiss me and turn my face to see,
The shadows on the wall, And then sing “ Rousseau's Dream” to
Till fast asleep I fall.
But this is not my little bed;
That time is far away:
TO A CHILD EMBRACING HIS
LOVE thy mother, little one!
Kiss and clasp her neck again Hereafter she may have a son
Will kiss and clasp her neck in vain. Love thy mother, little one!
Gaze upon her living eyes,
And mirror back her love for thee, Hereafter thou mayst shudder sighs
To meet them when they cannot see. Gaze upon her living eyes!
Press her lips the while they glow
With love that they have often told, Hereafter thou mayst press in woe,
And kiss them till thine own are cold. Press her lips the while they glow!
Oh, revere her raven hair!
Too early Death, led on by Care,
May snatch save one dear lock away. Oh, revere her raven hair!
Pray for her at eve and morn,
That Heaven may long the stroke defer;For thou mayst live the hour forlorn
When thou wilt ask to die with her. Pray for her at eve and morn!
RING-TING! I wish I were a Primrose,
Nay - stay! I wish I were an Elm-tree, A great lofty Elm-tree, with green leaves
gay! The winds would set them dancing, The sun and moonshine glance in, The birds would house among the boughs, And sweetly. sing!