To My Mother

If e'er for human bliss or woe

I feel the sympathetic glow;

If e'er my heart has learn'd to know

The gen'rous wish or pray'r;

Who sow'd the germ, with tender hand?

Who mark'd its infant leaves expand?

My mother's fostering care.

And if one flower of charms refined

May grace the garden of my mind,

'Twas she who nursed it there:

She loved to cherish and adorn

Each blossom of the soil;

To banish every weed and thorn

That oft opposed her toil!

And, oh, if e'er I sighed to claim

The palm, the living palm of fame,

The glowing wreath of praise;

If e'er I've wish'd the glitt'ring stores

That fortune on her fav'rite pours;

'Twas but that wealth and fame, if mine,

Round thee with streaming rays might shine

And gild thy sun-bright days!

~ Felicia Hemans