  My own mamma! My dear mamma! How happy I shall be, To-morrow night At candle light, When she comes home to me. 'Tis just a week, Since on my cheek, She pressed a parting kiss, I never knew, So long a week as this. My tangled hair She smoothed with care, With water bathed my brow, And all with such A gentle touch— There's none to do so now. I cannot play When she's away, There's none to laugh with me, And much I miss The tender kiss— The seat upon her knee. I'm sorrowing led, I linger on the stairs; I lie and weep; I cannot sleep; I scarce can say my prayers. But she will come, She'll be at home To-morrow night, and then I hope that she Will never be So long away again. |
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