Poems (Odom)/My Mother

For works with similar titles, see My Mother.
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MY MOTHER.
Who was it when my infant breath
 Was pure as angels' own,
Watched o'er me with such tender care
 And soothed my every moan?
         My Mother.

Who taught my prattling baby lips
 To lisp my prayers at morn;
Who strewed my earthly path with flowers
 And buried every thorn?
         My Mother.

Who, when the bright-red buds of youth
 Are bursting into bloom,
Entreats me to remember well
 That God may call them soon?
         My Mother.

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