THE voices of the Loved and Lost are stirring at my heart, And memory's misered treasures leap to life, with sudden start-- Thou art looking, smiling on me, as thou hast looked and smiled, Mother, And I am sitting at thy side, at heart a very child, Mother! I'm with thee now in soul, sweet Mother, much as in those hours, When all my wealth was in thy love, and in the birds and flowers. And by these holy yearnings, by these eyes sweet tears wet, I know there wells a spring of love through all my being yet. |