This poem was published in Golden Thoughts on Mother, Home and Heaven, 1881. The accompanying illustration is an old woodcut taken from Stories From Old-Fashioned Children’s Books, Andrew W. Tuer and published by The Leadenhall Press, Ltd., 1899-1900.
Mid life’s commotions—dismal fears—
Mid cares and woes, and floods of tears,
How sweetly breaks upon the ear
Some words of comfort or of cheer;
Yet of our friends there’s not another
Who speaks as gently as our mother.
Here disappointments crowd each day,
Our brightest hopes soon fade away,
And friends long trusted oft deceive;
We scarcely know whom to believe,
Yet, though we fear to trust each other,
We’re not afraid to trust our mother.
Yet here where there’s so much deceit,
Some friends we have we love to meet;
There’s love we know that will endure,
Not sordid, selfish, but all pure;
But though beloved by sister, brother,
There’s none that love us like our mother.
Among the names to mortals given,
There’s none like mother, home and heaven;
For home’s no home without her care;
And heaven, we know she will be there;
Then let us, while we love each other,
Remember and be kind to mother.
In searching for an image to illustrate this poem, I was delighted to rediscover in my collection Stories from Old-Fashioned Children’s Books. It features “250 cuts” and is a great compilation of stories that were considered “old” in the Victorian era. I hope to add scans and some of the stories from this book to this site in the near future; be sure to follow me on Twitter or become a Fan of my Facebook page and never miss an update to this site.