Читать книгу Songs of a Cheerful Wayfarer - Dunbar Hibbard Hudson - Страница 9
MY MOTHER
ОглавлениеWho was it, from a dizzy height,
Gazed down upon a little mite
All curves and dimples, pink and white?
My Mother.
Who was it when I faced starvation,
Having no teeth for mastication,
Supplied a most nutritious ration?
My Mother.
Who was it as I grew apace
Insisted I must wash my face
Behind my ears and every place?
My Mother.
Who darned my stockings, cut my hair,
Made every stitch I had to wear,
And oft, I fear, was in despair?
My Mother.
Who, when her lad was in disgrace,
Showed only pity in her face,
Enfolding in a fond embrace?
My Mother.
Who loved me whether good or bad,
When I was naughty, looked so sad
She made me wish I never had?
My Mother.
Who warned of every evil way,
Taught me a childish prayer to say,
"That God would guard me day by day"?
My Mother.
Who was it at a Throne of Grace
Besought that I might "find a place
Within God's house, and see His face"?
My Mother.
God bless and keep you, Mother dear,
'Till that bright morn, when shall appear
A messenger from out the West,
Where lie the "Islands of the blest,"
Summoning home. 'Till then, hold fast.
He will not fail you, at the last.
