Classic Poem

ONLY HER COUNSEL HAS POWER TO HEAL

Never did doting mother her dear son,
Or to her loved lord the solicitous spouse,
When danger darkened lord or lad or house,
Such tender precept give as that true One,
Who, often looking down from her high throne
On my grim exile, bends compassionate brows
Upon my fortune (the old look that knows!)
As any friend or parent would have done.
Now virtuous affection prompts, now terror,
Her pregnant words that point the several ways
To seek or shun — hard truth and easy error;
Then she recounts life's evils here and prays
It may not be too long before my soul
Decamps... Her words rejoice and make me whole.