She taught me to lisp my earliest prayer,  

   As I knelt beside that old arm-chair.  

 

   I sat and watched her many a day,  

   When her eye grew dim and her locks were gray;  

   And I almost worshipped her when she smiled,  

   And turned from her Bible to bless her child.  

 

   Years rolled on; but the last one sped—  

   My idol was shattered; my earth-star fled;  

 

   I learned how much the heart could bear,  

   When I saw her die in that old arm-chair.  

 

     'Tis past, 'tis past, but I gaze on it now  

     With quivering breath and throbbing brow: 

 

     'Twas there she nursed me, 'twas there she died;  

     And Memory flows with lava tide.  

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