Mothers

Through the vigils deep of the sable night A mother sits in grief alone, For her sons have gone to the battle front And left on the hearth a crushing stone. Beyond the stars that burn at night She sees God's arm in pity reach; It counsels patience, love and faith, Heroic hearts and souls to teach. The blue is spann'd and the tide goes out. And the stars rain down a kindlier cheer; And the mother turns from this throne of grief To pierce the years with a joyous tear; For duty born of a mother's heart Fills all the rounds of our common day— Yea, sheds its joy in the darkest night, And fills with light each hidden way. For Miss Ina Coolbrith.