E. R. Ward - To mother

Elizabeth Rebecca Ward, AKA Fay Inchfawn

          To Mother

I would that you should know,

Dear mother, that I love you - love you so!

That I remember other days and years;

Remember childish joys and childish fears.

And this, because my baby’s little hand

Opened my own heart’s door and made me understand.

I wonder how you could

Be always kind and good!

So quick to hear; to tend

My smallest ills; to lend

Such sympathizing ears

Swifter than ancient seer’s.

I never yet knew hands so soft and kind,

Nor any cheek so smooth, nor any mind

So full of tender thoughts...Dear mother, now

I think that I can guess a little how

You must have looked for some response, some sign,

That all my tiresome wayward heart was thine(уст.=yours).

And sure it was! You were my first dear love!

You who first pointed me to God above;

You who seemed hearkening to my lightest word,

And in the dark night seasons always heard

When I came trembling, knocking at your door.

Forgive me, mother, if my whims outwore

Your patient heart. Or if in later days

I sought out foolish unfamiliar ways;

If ever, mother dear, I loosed my hold

Of your loved hand; or, headstrong, thought you cold,

Forgive me, mother! Oh, forgive me, dear!

I am come back at last - you see me here,

Your loving child...And, mother, on my knee

I pray that thus my child may think of me!