Passion Flowers (Watson)/The Divine Passion

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The Divine Passion.
Mother Love.
When she is gone and solemn stillness lies Along the way her eager feet have trod;When upward glances of your tender eyes Would follow her who has gone home to God:What will you cherish most of gifts she wore, Her tender eyes, a fancied grace of speech,A fancied cleverness in ancient lore, A fancied scope or an aspiring reachOf thought, original and pure and strong? What will you cherish most when she has leftThis earthly tabernacle, and you long With sad and aching heart because bereft?Of all her gifts you'll cherish one above: The gift none else can give—her mother-love.
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