AH! dinna chide the mither! Ye may na hae her lang; Her voice, abune your baby rest, Sae saftly crooned the sang; She thocht ye ne'er a burden, She greeted ye wi' joy, An' heart an' hand in carin' ye, Foun' still their dear employ. Her han' has lost its cunnin', It's tremblin' now and slow, But her heart is leal an' lovin', As it was lang ago! An' though her strength may wither, An' faint her pulses beat, Nane will be like the mither, Sae steadfast, true, an' sweet! Ye maun revere the mither, Feeble an' auld an' gray; The shinin' ones are helpin' her Adoon her evenin' way! Her bairns wha wait her yonder, Her gude mon gone before: She wearies—can ye wonder?— To win to that braw shore! Ah! dinna chide the mither! O lip, be slow to say A word to vex the gentle heart Wha watched your childhood's day; Ay, rin to heed the tender voice Wha crooned the cradle sang, An' dinna chide the mither, sin' Ye may na hae her lang! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONGS AND THE POET (FOR SARA TEASDALE) by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE SWORD AND THE SICKLE by WILLIAM BLAKE THE LOCKLESS DOOR by ROBERT FROST ROBIN REDBREAST by MOTHER GOOSE EPITAPH ON HIMSELF by MATTHEW PRIOR ROBERT BURNS by WILLIAM ALEXANDER (1567-1640) PEACE ON EARTH by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON |