Being his mother--when he goes away <br />I would not hold him overlong, and so <br />Sometimes my yielding sight of him grows O <br />So quick of tears, I joy he did not stay <br />To catch the faintest rumor of them! Nay, <br />Leave always his eyes clear and glad, although <br />Mine own, dear Lord, do fill to overflow; <br />Let his remembered features, as I pray, <br />Smile ever on me! Ah! what stress of love <br />Thou givest me to guard with Thee thiswise: <br />Its fullest speech ever to be denied <br />Mine own--being his mother! All thereof <br />Thou knowest only, looking from the skies <br />As when not Christ alone was crucified.<br /><br />James Whitcomb Riley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/being-his-mother/
