(Take time to read and feel the depth of the words of this poem).
The fair young earth hushed all her sounds of life,
As evening gathered in the western sky,
And calmed the sportive winds that she might hear
The world's first mother's first fond lullaby.
A rapture, such as mothers share with God
By sweet melodious cadences expressed:
"My child! Part of my heart in human form--
My living thought, plucked from my throbbing breast!"
How good was God to give such balm divine
To sinning Eve bereft of Paradise!
To grant her, mourning over Eden lost,
To find new Edens in her baby's eyes.
And every mother, crooning o'er her child,
Catches the same sweet rapture from the skies,
And, though shut out of earthly Edens, finds
In mother-love, a sinless Paradise.
Each height of bliss but measures depth of woe,
And mother-joy is matched by mother-pain.
Eve's gentle heart bled o'er her sinning child,
And Mary wept o'er hers who had no stain.
Mothers alone drink Sorrow's deepest dregs.
Did God need sympathy that He should deign
To grant to woman through her mother-love,
Some comprehension of His love and pain?
Mothers alone climb Joy's most rapturous heights;
Here, too, they touch the heart of love divine.
“O Father, God, how very good thou art
To grant us joys that else were only thine!”
A partnership with God is motherhood;
What strength, what purity, what self-control,
What love, what wisdom should belong to her
Who helps God fashion an immortal soul!
~ Mary Wood-Allen