Classic Poem

Where is the love that, both soon and late,
Changeless till death in whatever fate,
Guards like an angel above us waking,
Asking for nothing, but all forsaking?
Go search the earth and you 'll find but one;
Such is a mother's deep love alone.

All bonds are selfish compared with this;
Even the rapturous bridegroom's kiss,
The joy a sister's embrace affords us,
Or childish arms that are stretching towards us.
Our truest friend some return has sought,
Only a mother has no such thought.

Does she recall through the long-past years
The bitter anguish, the streaming tears,
Her youthful spring that was gone so lightly,
Her days of care and her watchings nightly,
All for the child whom she loved the more,
The more distress for its joy she bore?

And who can give what her love imparts?—
The first-born thoughts of our childish hearts,
The first faint prayer that the young voice utters,
Our pure first love like a flame that flutters.
'T is by her prompting we understand
Truth, Virtue, Freedom, and Native Land.

And what do we give her throughout our lives?—
But grief, which tenderly she forgives;
A lukewarm love that is much divided,
A care that leaves her too oft unguided.
We bring no cheer as her life decays,
But leave her lone in her autumn days.

Yet in her thought she is with him still,
The wayward one who would roam at will,
And like a torch of angelic favor
Her prayers direct when our footsteps waver;
Her Christian faith on our life's long road
Can point the way to a sure abode.

Oh, may such mothers be ever blest!
In floods of sorrow how sweet to rest,
To find a comfort amid our striving,
And flee the turmoil of selfish living,
On such a bosom, secure from harm
Planted and cherished by kisses warm!

Reward, O Most High, as we never can!
Thy seed she sowed in the growing man,
Thy love it is, O Most High, none other
That 's mirrored clear in the eyes of a mother;
'T will ever be like the sun's last gleam
When those dear eyes shall have ceased to beam.