Dearest, your mother feels (though dead) this birth— <br />Laughs at the fire within your shining eyes— <br />Your eyes, yet mine, wherein such glory lies <br />Never before beheld upon the earth. <br />She scents the fragrance of the lily-mirth <br />Lilting this body that I drew all-wise <br />Out of your own, so hers, and with low sighs, <br />Mellowed in mine to what a wondrous worth. <br /> <br />Kiss me. Kiss her. The miracle is wrought— <br />The simple beauty out of simple love— <br />Mother and father, child and God—all One— <br />Eternal trinity for ever sought. <br />O, blessed from her quiet place above, <br />Your mother kisses us—a life’s work done.<br /><br />Zora Bernice May Cross<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-of-motherhood-xlv/
