Classic Poem

Men give their best to them they love the best;
The sceptre to the queen, the laurel-wreath
To the rapt minstrel, and the jeweled sheath
To him whose sword has stood the battle's test.
What guerdon, then, for thee? what garland blest,
What mightiest wand and blade and tempered shield?
I bring thee arms by fiercest proof annealed;
I bring thee flowers nor blight nor storm may wrest.
When on thy heart, triumphant from the hells
Of childbirth-pain, Love's first flower thou didst bear,
The miracle of this dower thy soul didst prove.
O deathless joy, which motherhood foretells!
Take, then, my child, as Life's divinest share,
Thy sceptre, crown, and shield, a mother's love.