I Love My Mother, The Wildwood, I Sleep Upon Her Breast; A Day Or Two Of Childhood, And Then I Sink To Rest. I Had Once A Lovely Sister -- She Was Cradled By My Side; But One Summer Day I Missed Her -- She Had Gone To Deck A Bride. And I Had Another Sister, With Cheeks All Bright With Bloom; And Another Morn I Missed Her -- She Had Gone To Wreathe A Tomb. And They Told Me They Had Withered, On The Bride'S Brow And The Grave; Half An Hour, And All Their Fragrance Died Away, Which Heaven Gave. Two Sweet-Faced Girls Came Walking Thro' My Lonely Home One Day, And I Overheard Them Talking Of An Altar On Their Way. They Were Culling Flowers Around Me, And I Said A Little Prayer To Go With Them -- And They Found Me -- And Upon An Altar Fair, Where The Eucharist Was Lying On Its Mystical Death-Bed, I Felt Myself A-Dying, While The Mass Was Being Said. But I Lived A Little Longer, And I Prayed There All The Day, Till The Evening Benediction, When My Poor Life Passed Away.