The Memory Of My Mother

f weeter tlian songs that wild birds sing. Whea nature'a breatli is rife wilh spring - Like riistli' of au angels wtng, I the memory of niy motlier. Tender as dew, that on the flowers Drop nolseless. through the twilight liours, Or zephyrs blown through eummer bowers. Is the memory of my mother. Holy as tread of angel feet, That WiUt Jerusiilem's brlghl street, swci'Iit 11 all thlngs that are sweet, Is the v of rnv mother.