To my Mother
JULIA WARD HOWE.
Sweet! when first my baby ear
Curled itself and learned to hear,
'Twas your silver-singing voice
Made my baby heart rejoice.
Curled itself and learned to hear,
'Twas your silver-singing voice
Made my baby heart rejoice.
Hushed upon your tender breast,
Soft you sang me to my rest;
Waking, when I sought my play,
Still your singing led the way.
Soft you sang me to my rest;
Waking, when I sought my play,
Still your singing led the way.
Cradle songs, more soft and low
Than the bird croons on the bough;
Olden ballads, grave and gay,
Warrior's chant, and lover's lay.
Than the bird croons on the bough;
Olden ballads, grave and gay,
Warrior's chant, and lover's lay.
So my baby hours went
In a cadence of content,
To the music and the rhyme
Keeping tune and keeping time.
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In a cadence of content,
To the music and the rhyme
Keeping tune and keeping time.
6
So you taught me, too, ere long,
All our life should be a song,—
Should a faltering prelude be
To the heavenly harmony;
All our life should be a song,—
Should a faltering prelude be
To the heavenly harmony;
And with gracious words and high,
Bade me look beyond the sky,
To the Glory throned above,
To th' eternal Light and Love.
Bade me look beyond the sky,
To the Glory throned above,
To th' eternal Light and Love.
Many years have blossomed by:
Far and far from childhood I;
Yet its sunrays on me fall,
Here among my children all.
Far and far from childhood I;
Yet its sunrays on me fall,
Here among my children all.
So among my babes I go,
Singing high and singing low;
Striving for the silver tone
Which my memory holds alone.
Singing high and singing low;
Striving for the silver tone
Which my memory holds alone.
If I chant my little lays
Tunefully, be yours the praise;
If I fail, 'tis I must rue
Not t' have closelier followed you.
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Tunefully, be yours the praise;
If I fail, 'tis I must rue
Not t' have closelier followed you.
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