Classic Poem

  Judge . You are accused—
  M. Accused? say you, accused!
Why so were saints and martyrs: Nay (hear this)
Christ was accused! The only Son of God,—
He was reviled and smitten: crowned with thorns,
Nailed to the cross,—murdered! Do you hear?
You judges of a mean and bloody law?
Who spell out, with cold tongues, accursed words,
That freeze my soul.— Do you say— dare you say;
That I—a mother—ay, a fond one (back,
You blinding tears!)—
  Judge . The law—
  M. I want not law.
I ask for justice:—Such as Heaven doth teach
Unto wise hearts, and man metes out to man:
Such as doth keep the troubled world in quiet.
I ask for justice: do I ask too much?
A mother,—I demand to see the babes
I bore in pain, and fed, and for some years,
(A few, too few!) guided as they should go,
And taught them truth and gentle thoughts; and now
I ask to see them. God! I ask 't of thee;
For man demes me. Ah! God!—Father! Friend!
(I have no other;) from thine awful throne
Hear my petition. Give my children to me:
And other fortune, short of this, I 'll bear,
And thank your grace for ever.