A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919/Mother and Mate

by Gilbert Frankau

MOTHER AND MATE

LIGHTLY she slept, that splendid mother mine
Who faced death, undismayed, two hopeless years. . .
("Think of me sometimes, son, but not with tears
Lest my soul grieve," she writes. Oh, this divine
Unselfishness!). . .
Her favourite print smiled down—
The stippled Cupid, Bartolozzi-brown—
Upon my sorrow. Fire-gleams, fitful, played
Among her playthings—Toby mugs and jade. . . .

And then I dreamed that—suddenly, strangely clear—
A voice I knew not, faltered at my ear:
"Courage!" . . . Your own dear voice, loved since, and known!

And now that she sleeps well, come times her voice
Whispers in day-dreams: "Courage, son! Rejoice
That, leaving you, I left you not alone."

Gilbert Frankau