The Reading Mother
I had a mother who read me lays
Of ancient and gallant and golden days;
Stories of Marmion and Ivanhoe,
Which every boy has a right to know.
I had a Mother who read me tales
Of Gelert the hound of the hills of Wales,
True to his trust till his tragic death,
Faithfulness blent with his final breath.
I had a Mother who read me the things
That wholesome life to the boy heart brings –
Stories that stir with an upward touch,
Oh, that each Mother of boys were such!
You may have tangible wealth untold;
Chests of jewels and coffers of gold.
Richer than I, you can never be –
For I had a Mother who read to me.
–—Strickland Gillilan
