The Mother

"My sons, O Lord!—If Thou who gaveShalt bid me be bereft,Who knew a mother's heart, O Thou,Save them from sin, and place them now,Upon Thy right and left!"—

Up Time's rough steep, with feeble tread,The mother toileth yet;How many days? How many years?—Who counts the rosary of tearsKnows where her feet are set.

Not for herself sweet Heaven she prays;—God knows that on the day of days,The prayer most self-forgetting, white,The soul most radiant in His sight,Will wear a mother's crown!—

Not for herself—up Time's rough steepThe mother toileth yet;O wakeful nights and watchful years!—Who counts the rosary of tearsKnows where her feet are set.