My Mother

Anna Laetitia Barbauld

MY MOTHER

My own mamma!
My dear mamma!
How happy I shall be,
Tomorrow night
At candle light,
When she comes home to me.

'Tis just a week,
Since on my cheek,
She pressed a parting kiss,
It seems like two,
I never knew,
So long a week as this.

My tangled hair
She smoothed with care,
With water bathed my brow,
And all with such
A gentle touch -
There's none to do so now.

I cannot play
When she's away,
There's none to laugh with me,
And much I miss
The tender kiss -
The seat upon her knee.

When up to bed
I'm sorrowing led,
I linger on the stairs;
I lie and weep;
I cannot sleep;
I scarce can say my prayers.

But she will come,
She'll be at home
Tomorrow night, and then
I hope that she
Will never be
So long away again.

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