Blessed dead sleep:
They tranquilly rest
On our Mother's calm breast.

MY MOTHER

I knew her in her prime,
Before the seal of Time
Was graven on her brow,
As Age hath graved it now:
When radiant Youth was just subdued
To yield to gracious womanhood.
And as an inland lake
Lies tranquil mid the hills,
Unruffled by the storms that break
Beyond, and mirrors Heaven;
So, to her spirit, freed from ills,
A blessed calm was given.
Encircled by War's strife
Peace ruled her life.
Christ's teachings were her constant guide,
And naught beside,
Christ's Death and Passion were her plea--
None needed she;
For that amid earth's fiercest strife
Her life was patterned on His life.
Now when her eyes grow dim
She lives so close to Him,
The radiance of His smile
Envelops her the while.
As when the Prophet's figure shone
With light reflected from the Throne,
So, ever in her face
Shines Heaven's divinest grace.
Her soul is fresh and mild
As is a little child.
And as the fleshly tenement
With age grows worn and bent,
Her Spirit's unabated youth
Is aye to me
The mind-compelling truth
Of Immortality.
Her voice is, as it were,
A silver dulcimer,
Tuned like the seraph's lays
Eternally to praise.
The blessings of Christ's chosen friends
Are doubly hers, whose mind,
To charity inclined,
No selfish ends
Have ever for an instant moved:
Who served like Martha
And like Mary loved.

HER INFLUENCE

The tender Earth that smiles when kissed by Spring;
The flowers; the budding woods; the birds that sing
The Summer's song her spirit to me bring.

The meadows cool that breathe their fragrant myrrh;
Deep, placid pools that little breezes blur;
Soft-tinkling springs speak to my heart of her.

Heaven's purple towers upon the horizon's rim;
The dove that mourns upon his lonely limb,
Fill my soul's cup with memories to its brim.

In evening's calm when in the quiet skies,
The lustrous, silent, tender stars uprise,
I feel the holy influence of her eyes.

That deeper hour when Night with Dawn is blent,
And Silence stirs, its languors well-nigh spent,
I hear her gently sigh with sweet content.

I hear young children laughing in the street:
Catch rays of sunshine from them as we meet,
And smile content to know what makes them sweet.

Yea, everywhere, in every righteous strife,