Patrick Regan has kindly shared the material from his George Heath site with readers of the Victorian Web, who may wish to consult the original.

O how calm, how bright the dawning
      Of my blissful childhood seems!
Where the first faint rays of memory
      Penetrate the land of dreams.

Dim and shadowy scenes and faces,
      Pass like spectres o'er my mind,
Seize their misty robes and vanish,
      Leaving scarce a trace behind;

But, e'en as the venturous wanderer
      In the pyramidal tomb,
Sees the light that marks the entrance
      While around him all is gloom;

So, amid the glooms and shadows
      Of my dawning life, I trace
One serene and sunny presence;
      One unchanging form and face.

And through all those hours of weakness,
      Through my boyhood's hopes and fears,
Through the tempests, sorrows, trials,
      And the cares of later years;

Firm, alike, mid storm and sunshine,
      Through Affliction's feverish night,
Runs that presence o'er my pathway,
      An unbroken stream of light.

O! my fond and tender Mother,
      'Tis thine image, purest, best!
Utmost on my range of vision,
      First on memory's scroll impressed;

Constant sharer of my burden!
      Guardian of my transient day!
Like an angel ever pointing
      To the Life, the Truth, the Way!

Ah! I have not yet forgotten
      All thy counsels and thy tears,
All thy warnings kindly spoken,
      All the bliss of vanished years.

And till round me falls the death-mist,
      Till the sun of life has set,
Never shall I cease to love thee,
      Never, never once forget.

Last modified 4 September 2002