Oh mother dear
I miss thee,
thou art the fairest true,
Shall I tell so of the ways
my heart doth grieve anew.
For each new day I see thee more
in all I say and do,
The way my hands may move
or how I speak like you,
I copy you a thousand times
and then I miss thee more,
which shows me as the years go by
of all the love you bore.
My heart returns to all you sang
the stories you might tell,
Your gentleness in dark of night
the voice I knew so well.
Oh mother dear
you're always mine,
no other mother so divine,
Should I but share of all your ways
would be such blessing kind.
