IN DREAMS I SEE MY MOTHER
In dreams I see my mother now,
Her locks are silvered gray;
I see upon her placid brow
The cares of many a day;
Her eyes grow dim, her step is slow,
Her strength is failing fast;
Her voice is tremulous and low,
For youth's bright day is past,
For youth's bright day is past.
We knelt in childhood by her side,
To say our evening prayer;
Her gentle voice was then our guide,
It soothed each little care,
But as at night the weary dove
Flies to her mountain nest,
She winged her way to heaven above,
With angels there to rest,
With angels there to rest.
If then you have a mother dear,
Oh, love her while you may;
She will not always linger here,
Too soon she'll pass away.
Her love we know not how to prize
Till from us she is riven;
Till, like an angel from the skies,
She points the way to heaven,
She points the way to heaven.