Poems of John Galt: A Selection, ed.. G. H. Needler (Toronto: Burns and MacEachern, 1954): 44.
1There is no love like a fond mother’s love.
2The father’s gentle friendship is but care,
3The truest brother will unthinking rove,
4And the sweet sister can give but a share.
5In weal or woe the mother feels the tie,
6The sacred link but to her bosom known.
7The father’s ire the truant child may fly,
8But when did She part of herself disown?
9With her soft hand she holds the aching head,
10And toils unwearied when misfortune looms.
11The noisome dungeon has for her no dread,
12Yea, at the cross she mourns, and at the tombs:
13Then why so wonder that these tears should flow?
14Cold, cold, clay-cold, my mother lies below.
RPO poem Editors
Ian Lancashire / Sharine Leung