His Mother
DEAD! my wayward boy—_my own_—
Not _the Law’s!_ but _mine_—the good
God’s free gift to me alone,
Sanctified by motherhood.
‘Bad,’ you say: Well, who is not?
'Brutal’—'with a heart of stone’—
And ‘red-handed.’—Ah! the hot
Blood upon your own!
I come not, with downward eyes,
To plead for him shamedly,—
God did not apologize
When He gave the boy to me.
Simply, I make ready now
For _His_ verdict.—_You_ prepare—
You have killed us both—and how
Will you face us There!
