Last year in June I visited
That dear old sacred spot,
But the school-house on the hill-side
And the merry shouts were not.
A church was standing where it stood;
I looked around, but no--
I could not see the boys and girls
Of twenty years ago.
There was sister dear, and brother,
Around the old home-hearth;
And a tender, Christian mother,
Too angel-like for earth.
She used to warn me from the paths
Where thorns and brambles grow,
And lead me in the "narrow way"--
Twenty years ago.
I loved her and I honored her
Through all my boyhood years;
I knew her joys--I knew her cares--
I knew her hopes and fears.
But alas, one autumn morning
She left her home below,
And she left us there a-weeping--
Twenty years ago.
They bore her to the church-yard,
With slow and solemn pace;
And there I took my last fond look
On her dear, peaceful face.
They lowered her in her silent grave,
While we bowed our heads in woe,
And they heaped the sods above her head--
Twenty years ago.
That low, sweet voice--my mother's voice--
I never can forget;
And in those loving eyes I see
The big tears trembling yet.
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