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To The Best Of Women My Mother

I would give it all up at a word from you,

Mother o' mine!

But the strife has

That I dare not shun:

Yet my heart looks home to the rest it knew,

To the questionless trust and the welcome true;

And you call to me now as you used to do,

Mother o' mine!

The wonderful years that we shared are flown,

Mother o' mine!

The world has

The heart of your son;

The child has died in the man full grown;

The path of my life I must tread alone,

And I dare not return when you call your own,

Mother o' mine!

My heart in the chill of the world grows cold,

Mother o' mine!

But lives may

Ere your love be done,

And the child I remember you still

In the passionate peace of your heart's warm hold —For ever for you I'm the child of old,

Mother o' mine!

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Arthur Henry Adams

Arthur Henry Adams (6 June 1872 – 4 March 1936) was a journalist and author. He started his career in New Zealand, though he spent most of it in…

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