A Flower From My Angel Mother’s Grave

Author Unknown

I’ve a casket at home that is filled with precious gems.
I have pictures of friends dear to me.
And I’ve trinkets so rare that came many years ago.
From my far distant home across the sea.
But there’s one sweet little treasure that I’ll ever dearly prize,
Better far than all the wealth beneath the wave;
Though a small, faded floweret that I pinched in childhood’s days,
‘Tis a flower from my angel mother’s grave.

Chorus
Treasured in my mem’ry, like a happy dream,
Are the loving words she gave;
And my heart fondly cleaves to the dry and withered leaves,
‘Tis a flower from my angel mother’s grave.

In the quiet country churchyard they laid her down to sleep,
Close beside the old home she’s at rest;
And the low sacred mound is enshrined within my heart,
By the sweet ties of love over blest.
In the still and silent night I often dream of home again,
And the vision tells me ever to be brave;
For the last link that binds me to that place I love so well
Is the flower from my angel mother’s grave.

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