CIV
To Mother
CAN I make my feeble art
Show the burning of my heart?
Five-and-twenty years of schooling
Since you bore me, weak and puling,
Every day and every hour
I have battened on your power,
While you taught of life the whole;
You my Best Beloved and nighest,
You who ever claimed the highest
Was the one and only goal.
Often weary, often ailing,
Never for a moment failing,
Always cheering, always propping,
Often checking, sometimes stopping,
When the sands of life seemed sliding
You were helping, you were guiding—
Claimed for me the glorious rôle:
You my loved one and no other,
You my only lovely Mother,
You the pilot of my soul.
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