text:  Far from those blithe companions born Of her and blooming in their morn; On whom when couch'd her heart above So often look'd the Mother-Love! Ah! rent the sweet Home's union-band And never never more to come-- She dwells within the shadowy land Who was the Mother of that Home! How oft they miss that tender guide The care--the watch--the face--the MOTHER-- And where she sate the babes beside Sits with unloving looks--ANOTHER! * * * * * While the mass is cooling now Let the labour yield to leisure As the bird upon the bough Loose the travail to the pleasure