HE moon upon the wide sea Placidly looks down,
Smiling with her mild face,
Though the ocean frown.
Clouds may dim her brightness,
But soon they pass away,
And she shines out, unaltered,
O'er the little waves at play.
So 'mid the storm or sunshine,
Wherever she may go,
Led on by her hidden power The wild see must plow. As the tranquil evening moon Looks on that restless sea,
So a mother's gentle face,
Little child, is watching thee.
Then banish every tempest,
Chase all your clouds away,
That smoothly and brightly Your quiet heart may play.
Let cheerful looks and actions Like shining ripples flow,
Following the mother's voice,
Singing as they go."The Mother Moon" is reprinted from the Saturday Evening Gazette,
August 23, 1856.
