SHE led me first to God; Her words and prayers were my young spirit's dew-- For when she us'd to leave The fireside every eve, I knew it was for prayer that she withdrew. How often has the thought Of my mourn'd mother brought Peace to my troubled spirit, and new power The tempter to repel! Mother, thou knowest well That thou hast bless'd me since my natal hour. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EMERSON by MARY ELIZABETH MAPES DODGE A SONG FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY by JOHN DRYDEN LESSER EPISTLES: TO A LADY ON HER PASSION FOR OLD CHINA by JOHN GAY TO A CHAMELEON by MARIANNE MOORE ON THE MEDUSA OF LEONARDO DA VINCI IN THE FLORENTINE GALLERY by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE BEGGAR MAID [AND KING COPHETUA] by ALFRED TENNYSON |