The Mother-Tone

Never a song that the breeze whispers low,

Never a measure the bugles may blow,

Like the lilt and the croon

Of the old-fashioned tune

That babes in the arms of their glad mothers know.

Never an anthem that goes to the throne

Where angel hosts sing and trumpets are blown,

Like the low note and clear

That falls on the ear

Of the baby in arms—like the dear mother-tone.

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