 | A Dream |  |
25
'TIS MOTHER.
Only coughing, just a coughing,From a little cold I caught,
Which awoke me far past midnight,
Though the cough was seeming naught;
On the stairway I could hear them—
Pattering feet move in my room—
Feel the hand that reached me water,
Then the kiss that lit my gloom.
Who this comer far past midnight—
Was it father, friend, or brother,
Who would wake at my slight coughing?
No; I might have known 'tis mother;
Mother ever kind and watchful,
She who cares about my soul,
She who bears the woes of others,
Seeking e'er the heavenly goal—
She who knows my moody nature,
Knows my sorrows and my joys,
She who cheers when I'm despondent,
Chides most gently careless noise.
| A Dream | |