A Mother's Song
Her hand rests softly like the whitest pearl,
A gentle gem pulled out of raging seas.
While sleeping, she’s the marble newborn girl:
The marv’lous infant dreaming marv’lous dreams.
By day, her eyes of glass are searching beams
That give off light and always yearn to shine
With joy that all may come to her and see
The innocence of youth, so fair and fine.
She is a darling daughter, and is always mine.
