THE MODERN MOTHER

Oh what a kiss

With filial passion overcharged is this!

To this misgiving breast

The child runs, as a child ne'er ran to rest

Upon the light heart and the unoppressed.

Unhoped, unsought!

A little tenderness, this mother thought

The utmost of her meed

She looked for gratitude; content indeed

With thus much that her nine years’ love had bought.

Nay, even with less.

This mother, giver of life, death, peace, distress,

Desired ah! not so much

Thanks as forgiveness; and the passing touch

Expected, and the slight, the brief caress.

Oh filial light

Strong in these childish eyes, these new, these bright

Intelligible stars! Their rays

Are near the constant earth, guides in the maze,

Natural, true, keen in this dusk of days.