Within the sacred portals of my heart, Where mortal eye can never gaze, -- Is enshrined above all else apart, -- The memory of my Mother's face. At eventide -- that quiet hour, When sun sinks low and day is o'er, -- I long for her, I feel her power, 'Tis then I open "Memory's Door." I am carried back to other days, Down the cycle of the years, When I could see my Mother's face Through smiles and not through tears. Through happy days -- through anxious days, In fancy, then, I wander; From room to room I fondly roam, Alone, these scenes to ponder. I see her dress, her shoes -- all worn, -- A token here and there, -- Her kitchen apron, slightly torn, -- Her book -- her vacant chair, -- Souvenirs, each one a key To "Memory's Shrine" -- this sacred place, -- They thrill my heart -- precious to me -- They bring to me my Mother's face. So sacred this -- her memory -- So infinitely dear, That only God, Himself, doth see The memories dwelling here. And though it be the early dawn, The noon or midnight hour, When yearns the heart for her -- now gone, For Mother's soothing power, -- I turn the key, pass through the door To this "Shrine" known to none other, -- Then, here, in "Memory's Room," once more, -- I see the face of "Mother." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MENELAUS AND HELEN by RUPERT BROOKE BOLDNESS IN LOVE by THOMAS CAREW HEAVEN-HAVEN; A NUN TAKES THE VEIL by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS FROM THE ANTIQUE (2) by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE WORLD (1) by HENRY VAUGHAN |