Linden Harp ‎#138

138. Dialogue between Thomas and his mother

Thomas. Mother.
1 What is that, mother? The lark, my child.
The morn has but just look'd out, and smiled,
When he starts from his humble grassy nest,
And is up and away, with the dew on his breast,
And a hymn in his heart, to yon pure bright sphere,
To warble it out in his Maker's ear.
Ever, my child, be thy morn's first lays
Tuned, like the lark, to thy Maker's praise.

Thomas. Mother.
2 What is that, mother? The dove, my son,
And that low sweet voice, like a widow's moan,
Is flowing out from her gentle breast,
Constant and pure by that lonely nest,
As the wave is pour'd from some crystal urn,
For her distant dear one's quick return.
Ever, my son, be thou like the dove,
In friendship as faithful, as constant in love.

Thomas. Mother.
3 What is that, mother? The eagle, boy,
Proudly careering his course of joy,
Firm on his own mountain vigor relying,
Breasting the dark storm, the red bolt defying:
His wing on the wind, and his eye on the sun,
He swerves not a hair, but bears onward right on.
Boy, may the eagle's flight ever be thine,
Onward, and upward, and true to the line.

Thomas. Mother.
4 What is that, mother? The swan, my love,
He is floating down from his native grove,
No loved one now, no nestling nigh,
He is floating down by himself to die;
Death darkens his eye, and unplumes his wings,
Yet the sweetest note is the last he sings.
Live so, my love, that when death shall come,
Swan-like and sweet it may waft thee home.

Text Information

• First Line: What is that, mother? The lark, my child
• Title: Dialogue between Thomas and his mother
• Language: English
• Publication Date: 1855

Tune Information

(No tune information)