A father bends o'er him with looks of delight; His cheek is impearled with a mother's warm tear; And the lips of the boy in a love kiss unite With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear.' [Please select]
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A father bends o'er him with looks of delight; His cheek is impearled with a mother's warm tear; And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss unite With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear.' [Please select]
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All true trophies of the ages are from mother-love impearled, For the hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world. [Please select]
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