Salute Mother

Yonder at the poor and thatched cottage of ours,

On an August day of Autumn hours,

She who with the longest endurance, strongest pain and strangest panic,

Hath brought me to this world of beauty, passion, love, and pelf,

Speaking to me, the glamouring note of heart and soul in penance gulf,

Her face smiles in odds and evens,

High above the earth and heavens.

From the very heart of my Heart's paradise,

To sing of her is fair and wise.

Other thoughts have me none,

Far beyond the moon and sun.

Nay, not so, in the crushing dismay just,

Nor on pensive, vacant pentagon of my body,

where my dungeon lies.

Never in the melancholy that fast bereaves too,

All that I ever love her with, is my heart's content,

unshakable owe to her,

For, she is the dearest kin and most beloved,

I salute my Mother.