Over them murmuring low!—
On their lips her sweet kiss lingers yet,
And their cheeks with her tender tears are wet,
For she weeps,—that gentle mother weeps
(As morn and night her watch she keeps,
With a yearning heart and a passionate care,)
To see the young things grow so fair;
She weeps—for love she weeps—
And the dews are the tears she weeps
From the well of a mother’s love!