The Poetical Works of Jonathan E. Hoag/To Mother

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search

To Mother

O Death, we feel thy cruel sting,
As years pass by on fleeting wing;
These flowers bedewed with tears of love,
Darkness below and light above!

As bloom the buds of dreaming Spring,
Each lonelier year can memories bring,
But lingering by thy bed of clay,
Tokens of love to thee we lay.

1920