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All
that I am, all that I hope to be
I owe my angel mother;
My hand she guided as I learned to write,
My feet she guided in the ways of right,
My hopes she cherished, like a flame of light,
God bless her soul, God bless her memory,
My angel mother.
Her
weary hands are crumbled into dust,
But they shall live in leaves of forest trees;
Her tender heart may make sweet flowers I trust,
Heaven bless her soul, Earth bless her memories,
My angel mother.
-- President Abraham
Lincoln
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