CHRISTMAS BLOSSOMS. MY MOTHER. BY MRS. ABDY. MOTHER, again I see you stand Amid your prattling infant band; Again, in haste, aside you lay You wisely train each well-loved child, Gently you chide the rash and wild, You tenderly support the meek, I know that we are deemed to be Your influence binds us to each other: We owe our peace to you, my Mother. Dear Mother, at a future day, May we your ceaseless love repay; Oh! may we to our tempters say— |