THE MOTHER
THE MOTHER
The mother soothes her mantled childWith incantation sad and wild;A deep compassion brims her eyeAnd stills upon her lips, the sigh.
Her thoughts are leaping down the years,O'er branding bars, through seething tears,Her heart is sandaling his feetAdown the world's corroding street.
Then, with a start she dons a smileHis tender yearnings to beguile,And only God will ever knowThe wordless measure of her woe.
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