The sweet songs of birds, as their notes rose and fell,
Turned my mind to my childhood's dear home.
Long years they have passed since I saw that dear spot,
But its sweet memories time can ne'er smother;
I can never forget that dear little cot
And the sweet loving smile of my mother.
In sickness or pain 'twas dear mother that brought
Her sweet self and her charms to allay it;
She learned me a prayer and she lovingly taught
Me to kneel at her knees and to say it.
God's word she would read, and impress on my mind
The love that's conveyed by that story
Of the Savior, who died that millions might find
Eternal rest in His realms of glory.
For years she's been dead, and her low, grassy mound
Reminds me that 'neath it lies sleeping
The dear friend of my youth, whose magic, I found,
Could bring smiles to my face e'en when weeping.
'Tis thus the dear birds, as they joyfully sing
And chirp happy calls to each other,