the dying wife to her husband.
97
Link not my name with thoughts of death,
But point them to the sky,
And tell them, in the "Better Land"
They neither weep nor die.
But point them to the sky,
And tell them, in the "Better Land"
They neither weep nor die.
Go with them to their lonely couch
At evening's silent close,
And softly press each pillowed cheek,
And hush them to repose;
Or bid them kneel with clasped hands
To lisp their evening prayer;
Thou must unite a father's love,
With all a mother's care.
At evening's silent close,
And softly press each pillowed cheek,
And hush them to repose;
Or bid them kneel with clasped hands
To lisp their evening prayer;
Thou must unite a father's love,
With all a mother's care.
A mother's care! a mother's love!
And must they never know
How deeply in her "heart of hearts"
A mother's love may glow?
Will they yet bloom in girlhood fair,
While she who gave them birth
Lies all forgotten far away,
In one lone spot of earth?
And must they never know
How deeply in her "heart of hearts"
A mother's love may glow?
Will they yet bloom in girlhood fair,
While she who gave them birth
Lies all forgotten far away,
In one lone spot of earth?
