Mother’s Day 1892 sheet music by Gloucester composer

From the collection of the Library of Congress, Music Division, you can download sheet music for “That Sweet Picture of My Mother”, an 1892 song by Osborne W. Lane, “author of Sailing Home” reassures the Victorian byline.

Does anyone know this Gloucester composer? Lane was a  music teacher working out of 99 Main Street. Earlier he composed an 1879 ballad, “In the Starlight Sat I Thinking” with lyrics by Abbie Wheeler and dedicated to Miss Minnie Smith. That sheet music cover is lovely:

In the same year that Lane wrote “That Sweet Picture of My Mother”, he was the music composer for the 1892 Gloucester Anniversary celebration and was paid or reimbursed $24.50 for his effort. (He’s the young man shown in the upper right oval.) He wrote the music for an original ode by Henry C.L. Haskell, “The Granite Shores of Cape Ann, both men “being of Gloucester birth.”

I am no judge of the craft of songwriting or determining forgotten gems. I can’t read music. Who knows if the melody and rhythm are there? The title was ‘sweet’. Despite lacking the skill to play the song,  my son gave the right hand of “That Sweet Picture of My Mother” a  try. It’s Mother’s Day after all. The lyrics chased him off.  If anyone wants to give it a go,

 

THAT SWEET PICTURE OF MY MOTHER

Music by Osborne W. Lane — Words by Frank H. Barnard

1. In the corner of the parlor hangs a picture on the wall,

It has hung there now for twenty years or more,

Tis a likeness of a mother on whom Death has cast a pall,

And she lies at rest on yon celestial shore;

Oft at twilight after labor I have sought a quiet rest,

‘Neath the shadow of the light from out the hall,

And in darkest hours of sadness to cheer me I find best

That sweet picture of my mother on the wall

I shall keep it, yes forever, it is dearer to me now,

Than the richest treasure heart could e’er enthrall,

It will cheer me when depression places sadness on my brow,

That sweet picture of my mother on the wall

 

2. I remember how when but a lad I often sought her knee,

And listened to the tales that she would tell,

She said, “My boy the golden rule will teach you what to be,

Thus follow it and do your duty well;”

Kind memory reveres her words they are as but a dream,

To reappear when fate would tend my fall,

But of all the treasures hoarded there is

None so dear to me, As the picture of my mother on the wall.

I shall keep it, yes forever, it is dearer to me now,

Than the richest treasure heart could e’er enthrall,

It will cheer me when depression places sadness on my brow,

That sweet picture of my mother on the wall