Eliza Cook - The Old Arm Chair - Not Applicable/Ghizela Rowe

Composed by：Not Applicable

The old arm-chair

By Eliza cook

I love it I love it and who shall dare

To chide me for loving that old arm-chair

I've treasured it long as a sainted prize

I've bedew'd it with tears and embalmed it with sighs

'Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart

Not a tie will break not a link will start

Would ye learn the spell a mother sat there

And a sacred thing is that old arm-chair

In childhood's hour I linger'd near

The hallow'd seat with list'ning ear

And gentle words that mother would give

To fit me to die and teach me to live

She told me shame would never betide

With truth for my creed and God for my guide

She taught me to lisp my earliest prayer

As I knelt beside that old arm-chair

I sat and watch'd her many a day

When her eye grew dim and her locks were grey

And I almost worshipp'd her when she smil'd

And turn'd from her Bible to bless her child

Years roll'd on but the last one sped

My idol was shatter'd my earth-star fled

I learnt how much the heart can bear

When I saw her die in that old arm-chair

'Tis past 'tis past but I gaze on it now

With quivering breath and throbbing brow

'Twas there she nursed me 'twas there she died

And memory flows with lava tide

Say it is folly and deem me weak

While the scalding drops start down my cheek

But I love it I love it and cannot tear

My soul from a mother's old arm-chair