I am no maiden, highly strung, To faint, when bloody death is nigh. I have not lived, by might of tongue Nor by vain boastings, wind-wide flung!
But on fame's endless ladder, I Have fought my way, from rung to rung! I am no fretful, whimp'ring miss; I am a woman, learned of years.
And once I felt your baby kiss: Your bliss for me had greater bliss! Your youthful sorrows had my tears. O son o’ mine, remember this!
Your foes were mine, in those dear days: Your friends were kind, and kin to me. We parted — so, we will not raise The long dead years. We went our ways,
I, brooding by the cold grey sea; You, pride-flushed, with your new-won bays! The years have passed; it does but seem As yester-eve you left my side.
I journeyed with you, dream on dream — I heard your great war eagle's scream! And on sweet Progress, your fair bride, I saw the sun of Fortune's beam!
I mourned your follies, word and deed; I watched your rising, when you rose, By sober prayer, by Cross and Bead; Until you found that greater Creed,
That in the broader channel flows, The lowly truths, that higher lead! You are my son, and born of me. My laws of Right are Laws to you
Whose hands were stained in blood, to be The hands that set the slave-man free! And now, again, you dare and do — For Justice, and Humanity!
The days to be are big with Fate! Go fight your battle, Son o’ mine: And State to Shire, and Shire to State, Its better self shall dedicate!
So, let the wily foe combine, Whilst, hand-locked, heart-locked, we can wait!
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