TO MY MOTHER.

HOW fair you are, my mother! Ah, though 't is many a year Since you were here, Still do I see your beauteous face, And with the glow Of your dark eyes cometh a grace Of long ago. So gentle, too, my mother! Just as of old, upon my brow, Like benedictions now, Falleth your dear hand's touch; And still, as then, A voice that glads me over-much Cometh again, My fair and gentle mother!

How you have loved me, mother, I have not power to tell, Knowing full well That even in the rest above It is your will To watch and guard me with your love, Loving me still. And, as of old, my mother, I am content to be a child, By mother's love beguiled From all these other charms; So to the last Within thy dear, protecting arms Hold thou me fast, My guardian angel, mother!