MY MOTHER—A DREAM.
Reading edition
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BY MRS. BALMANNO.
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Oh mother! sacred! dear! in dreams of thee,
I sat, again a child, beside thy knee,
Nestling amidst thy robe delightedly!
And all was silent in the sunny room,
Save bees that humm’d o’er honeysuckle bloom.
I gazed upon thy face, so mild, so fair,
I heard thy holy voice arise in prayer;
Oh mother! mother! thou thyself wert there!
Thou, by the placid brow, the thoughtful eye,
The clasping hand, the voice of melody.
I clung around thy neck—thy tears fell fast,
Like rain in summer, yet the sorrow past;
And smiles, more beautiful than e’en the last,
Play’d on thy lip, dear mother! such it wore
To bless our early home in days of yore.
Then wild and grand arose my native hills—
I heard the leaping torrents, and the thrills
Of birds that hymn the sun; the charm that fills
Old Haddon’s vales, and haunts its river side—
What time the Fays pluck king-cups by its tide.
Methought ’twas hawthorn time—the jolly May—
For o’er far plains bright figures seemed to stray,
Gath’ring the buds, and calling me away!
I waked, but ah! to weep—no eye of thine,
Sweet mother! beam’d its gentle light on mine.