Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!
I am so weary of toil and of tears, …
Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue,
Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you! …
Over my heart, in the days that are flown,
No love like mother-love ever has shone; …
None like a mother can charm away pain
From the sick soul and the world-weary brain.
Slumber’s soft calms o’er my heavy lids creep;
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep!