MOTHER O' MINE1 IF I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o mine, O mother o' mine! I know whose love would follow me still, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine! If I were drowned in the deepest sea, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine! I know whose tears would come down to me, Mother o mine, O mother o' mine! If I were damned of body and soul, Rudyard Kipling AT BETHLEHEM LONG, long before the Babe could speak, And to her bosom press, For they are motherless. ? By permission of the author, Rudyard Kipling. From The Light that Failed, copyright, 1899, by Rudyard Kipling Where were ye, Birds, that bless His name, John Banister Tabb TO HIS MOTHER He brought a Lily white, He brought a rose; and, lo, John Banister Tabb THE SHEPHERDESS SHE walks — the lady of my delight - A shepherdess of sheep. Her flocks are thoughts. She keeps them white; She guards them from the steep. She feeds them on the fragrant height, And folds them in for sleep. She roams maternal hills and bright, Dark valleys safe and deep. The chastest stars may peep. A shepherdess of sheep. She holds her little thoughts in sight, Though gay they run and leap. She has her soul to keep. Alice Meynell . MOTHERLESS I WRITE. My mother was a Florentine, Whose rare blue eyes were shut from seeing me When scarcely I was four years old; my life, A poor spark snatched up from a failing lamp Which went out therefore. She was weak and frail; She could not bear the joy of giving lifeThe mother's rapture slew her. If her kiss Had left a longer weight upon my lips, It might have steadied the uneasy breath, And reconciled and fraternized my soul With a new order. As it was, indeed, |