Passion Flowers (Watson)/A Mother's Quest

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A Mother's Quest.
Oh! where has he gone, with his golden hair, And his blue, blue eyes, I pray?These classic aisles, with their sombre piles, Have many a darksome way.
Oh! how shall I find, ye sages wise— I have searched this crowded place;—The boy who left my sheltering arms With the love light on his face.
He came in the flush of his boyish pride, His heart unstained and true;No worldly blot was upon his soul, I trusted my boy to you.
I've searched through all the dim, dim aisles And over the campus green;A youth I met who clasped my hand, But my boy I have not seen.
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The youth bowed low, in a courtly way, And spoke with an accent low,But his eye held not the tender light Of the boy's I used to know.
I came, for my ceaseless longing grew So strong I could not wait;You do not know a mother's heart, Though your learning be so great.
But sure, with all your cunning lore, And all your wondrous art,You'll find the lad, though you cannot see His picture in my heart.
You cannot give me back my boy! You cannot grant my plea—Alas!—I will long through all the days For the boy you took from me.
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