Dear mother! as the vine twines around the tree,
So from life’s rude blasts I cling to thee.
My lot has been to feel
Dark shadows o’er my spirit steal;
From slanderous tongues, and envy’s wiles,
Deceit that lurked ’neath wreathing smiles.
Oh! yonder I see the floweret’s hue;
Reviving ’neath the pearly dew.
Dear mother! as the dew to the drooping flower,
So thou to me in sorrow’s dark hour.