A FLOWER FROM MY ANGEL MOTHER'S GRAVE.
Copyright, 1878. by Wm. H. Kennedy.
I've a casket at home that is filled with precious gems;
I have pictures of friends dear to me;
I have trinkets so rare, And that came many years ago
From far distant homes across the sea;
But there's one little treasure that I'll ever dearly prize,
better far than all the wealth beneath the wave;
Though a small faded flower that I plucked in childhood's days,
'Tis a flower from my angel mother's grave.
Treasured in my memory, like a happy dream,
Are the loving words she gave.
And my heart fondly cleaves to the dry and withered leaves-
Tis a flower from my angel mother's grave.
In the quiet country church-yard they laid her down to sleep,
Close beside the home she's at rest;
And the low, sacred mound is enshrined within my heart
By the sweet ties of love forever blest.
In the still and silent night I often dream of home again,
And the vision ever tells me to be brave.
For the lust thing that binds me to that place I love so well
Is the flower from my angel mother's grave.-Chorus.