Who fed me from her gentle breast
And hushed me in her arms to rest,
And on my cheek sweet kisses prest?
Who ran to help me when I fell,
And would some pretty story tell,
Or kiss the place to make it well?
Hundreds of dewdrops to greet the dawn,
Hundreds of bees in the purple clover,
Hundreds of butterflies on the lawn,
But only one mother the wide world over.