Classic Poem

O Mothers of the Human Race,
Who, in the birthing of our breath,
The uttermost of suffering face,
And touch the very hem of death,
Will you not mother all mankind
Into one all-maternal mind?

O Mothers of the Human Race,
Whose milk is universal bread,
As all-sustaining as the grace
Of the heart's universal red,
Will you not feed us with the food
Of love for all the human brood?

O Mothers of the Human Race,
Protectors of our infant years,
Who wooed us to our first embrace,
And taught us laughter out of tears,
Teach us the gesture and the glee
Of the world-love that is to be.

O Mothers of the Human Race,
—Who, in the birthing of our breath,
The uttermost of suffering face,
—And touch the very hem of death,
Will you not mother all mankind
Into one all-maternal mind?

O Mothers of the Human Race,
—Whose milk is universal bread,
As all-sustaining as the grace
—Of the heart's universal red,
Will you not feed us with the food
Of love for all the human brood?

O Mothers of the Human Race,
—Protectors of our infant years,
Who wooed us to our first embrace,
—And taught us laughter out of tears,
Teach us the gesture and the glee
Of the world-love that is to be.