VI.

Mother, mother, up in heaven, Stand up on the jasper sea, And be witness I have given All the gifts required of me,-- Hope that blessed me, bliss that crowned, Love that left me with a wound, Life itself that turneth round!

Thou art standing in the room, In a molten glory shrined That rays off into the gloom! But thy smile is bright and bleak Like cold waves--I cannot speak, I sob in it, and grow weak.