It now lies on the shelf, it is faded and torn,
That dear old shawl by my mother worn.
It is all that is left for this heart to adore,
To bring to mind those happy days of yore.
How often the hands to these folds have been press'd
That now beneath the daisy's are at rest,
The tears come unbidden and silently fall
To gleam like gems on mother's old red shawl.
It is useful no more, yet I fondly adore,
That dear old shawl my mother wore,
And thro' life it shall be a lov'd treasure to me,
That little old red shawl my mother wore.
Oh, my heart often aches with a dull throbbing pain,
When visions of childhood come again,
And sadly I think of the days that are past,
Too bright and too happy to last.
Oh beautiful childhood, made bright by the smile
Of one whose love could ev'ry care beguile.
How gladly I'd flee from the world's bitter thrall
To seek the heart that throbb'd beneath this shawl.
How brightly her face to my mem'ry appears,
Tho' grave dust has cover'd it for years.
How sweet sounds her voice, with a cadence of love,
Though now 'tis turn'd to melodies above.
For life flees away like a tale that is told
But, joys of childhood never can grow old,
And visions of mother so dear to us all
Come back whene'er I see her old red shawl.