In Mother's room still stands the chair
Beside the sunny window, where
The flowers she loved now lightly stir
In April's breeze, as though they were
Forlorn without her loving care.

Her books, her work-box, all are there,
And still the snowy curtains bear
The soft, sweet scent of lavender
In Mother's room.

Oh, spot so cool, and fresh, and fair,
Where dwelt a soul so pure and rare,
On me your fragrant peace confer,
Make my life sweet with thoughts of her,
As lavender makes sweet the air
In Mother's room.