Bright little fairy tales...

 Bright little fairy tales...

There was a place in childhood that I
remember well,
And there a voice of sweetest tone bright
fairy tales did tell;
And gentle words and fond embrace were
given with joy to me
When I was in that happy place, upon my
mother's knee.

When fairy tales were ended, "Good night,"
she softly said.
And kissed, and laid me down to sleep within
my tiny bed;
And holy words she taught me there - me-
thinks I yet can see
Her angel eyes, as close I knelt beside my
mother's knee.

In the sickness of my childhood, the perils
of my prime,
The sorrows of my riper years, the cares of
every time;
When doubt and danger weighed me down,
then pleading all for me.
It was a fervent prayer to Heaven that bent
my mother's knee.

Samuel Lover