Classic Poem

O Mother nigh-forgotten,
To-day, amid our joy,
A thankful land remembers
The Mother of the Boy!

Empires had aged and vanished;
The centuries unrolled;
A New World rose from shadow
New cycles to unfold.

Again the heavens yearned downward;
Again, in winter wild,
The self-same stars were watching
A Mother and a Child;

Again the manger-cradle,
The oxen standing by,
The humble folk low bending
To catch a baby's cry.

O little knew that Mother,
Madonna of the West,
How Fate and Fame were watching
The child upon her breast!

No angel-vision showed her
The spirit's growth in grace,
The wisdom and the stature,
The patience in the face.

She heard no song of captives
In rapture of release;
No praising world acclaim him
God's Messenger of Peace;

Nor saw, across the Aprils,
The form upon the rood,
And a great nation shaken
With grief and gratitude.

The boy her heart had prayed for,
And loved so mother-well, —
No dream foretold him Savior,
A land's Emmanuel.

Now, Woman of the birth-pangs,
Mother, who never knew,
With battle-scars outfaded,
Our faces turn to you!

The four winds all are throbbing
A chime of birthday bells;
Through North and South commingled
One surge of gladness swells.

O Mother nigh-forgotten,
To-day, amid our joy,
A land all thanks remembers
The Mother of the Boy!