This page has been validated.
THE ALL-MOTHER
IN the arid and desolate places of life
She opens fresh fountains of feeling;
She comforts the spirit o'erwearied with strife;
For the hurt of the heart she has healing.
She looks on our sorrows with calm that is kind,
(What recks she of failure or illness?)
And gives, with a smile, to the care-burdened mind
The relief of her beauty and stillness.
She sings mid the tempest, she wings the storm's flight,
(There's nothing can life from Life sever!)
To guide the lost wanderer safe through the night,
She keeps a lamp burning forever.
140
