Explore "To Our Mother on Her Eighty-ninth Birthday" by Fanny J. Crosby on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Tender thoughts their spell are weaving, / Hallowed memories round us twine, / 'Tis the birthday of our mother, / And her years are eighty-nine;
Years that fraught with many changes / Came and went as flies a dream, / Came and went as speeds an arrow, / Or a meteor's flashing beam.