Oh! Weary Mother Poem by Barry Pain
Oh! Weary Mother
The lilies lie in my lady's bower,
(Oh! weary mother, drive the cows to roost;)
They faintly droop for a little hour;
My lady's head droops like a flower.
She took the porcelain in her hand,
(Oh! weary mother, drive the cows to roost;)
She poured; i drank at her command;
Drank deep, and now—you understand!
(Oh! weary mother, drive the cows to roost.)
Saturday, October 5, 2013
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5/6/2024 10:25:26 AM # 1.0.0.1119
