Who thinks of her child far away,—

Who blesses thee still, in the stranger land,

Tho' mouldering fast to decay.

She weeps for thee e'en in the midnight hour,

When Care may have lull'd thee to sleep;

She prays for her once adored, still beloved child,—

She prays, but she turns to weep.

She prays to the Power that rules the winds

That He will ne'er forsake her;

She prays the prayer of a parent's grief,