Mother

Who with her tender love
Wrapped all our peaceful days
Whose trust in God secured our darkest nights
And all our fears with hope dispelled.
True virtue, purest innocence and faith,
For all that folly had its little place,
Our every moment filled with energy and hope,
Catching the vision of those higher realms of joy,
As yet unseen – yet truly to be found.

.
All her lights burned bright
Against the gloom in every place –
Corners, sought out by envy and deceit,
Yielded to the floodtide of her benison
That shrunk their weapons to mere trinkets
Too worthless to be held.

.

One whole summer’s warmth
Lay in her one embrace
And as unclouded as its sky
The pledged devotion of her gaze.
Nor did that heart deny one pulse of love
Those hands one comforting caress.
All poured forth – the purest stream
Of inexhaustible delight in us.

.

How much laughter – how much mirth!
Unspoiled by hurt or hate –
For every motion of her being was to bless
And bless again
She did not bear us only in her womb
But all her days.
We were her chief delight
As she was ours.

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