 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
256
A BIRTHDAY PRAYER.
Mother, dear mother, no unmeaning rhyme,No mere ingenious compliment of words
My heart pours out at this auspicious time;
I know, a simple honest prayer affords
More music on affection's thrilling chords,
More joy than can be measured or exprest
In song most sweet or eloquence sublime:
Mother, I bless thee! God doth bless thee too,
In these thy children's children thou art blest
With dear old pleasures springing up anew:
And blessings wait upon thee still, my mother,
Blessings to come for many a happy year;
For, losing thee, where could we find another
So kind, so true, so tender—and so dear?
| Three Hundred Sonnets | |