"An Orphan’s Lament", p. 20

My Mother thou wilt weep no more
For thou art gone above
But can I ever cease to mourn
Thy fond* and fervent love?

While that was mine the world to me
Was sunshine bright and fair
No feeling rose within in my heart
But thou couldst read it there

And thou wouldst couldst feel for all my joys
And all my childish cares
And never weary of my play
Or scorn my foolish fears

Beneath thy sweet maternal smile
All pain and sorrow fled
And even the very tears were sweet
Upon [?] thy bosome shed

*Note: Chitham (1979) transcribes the starred word as “good,” but the manuscript reads “fond.”