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82 OTHER VERSE
MY MOTHER'S WEDDING RING.
I remember when that circlet
Was a heavy golden band, And how chastely rich it shone upon
Her plump and pretty hand. As boy and man, I've often seen
Pure gems, serene and rare, Gleam brightly on the same dear hand,
So tender, true and fair.
Those jewels, like the fleeting joys
That come, and glow, and go, With all of Fortune's transient gifts,
And many a weighing woe, Have gone, as go all friends and days,
With every hope or care: But still the plain gold wedding ring
Shines true and faithful there.
Those dear, old hands are trembling now
Beneath the weight of years And fragile, thin, has grown the band
That linked her joys and tears, But to a loving, grateful son
There is no blessed thing In all the world so holy as
His mother's wedding ring.