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!