The way may be long from that land of song, That country of endless day, But far or near, I have never a fear But mother will find a way. They will want her there in a mansion fair, But ah! she will say them nay, And out of that joy to the heart of her boy My mother will find a way. She will hasten back on the starry track, She will neither faint nor stay; Through whatever wild, to her longing child My mother will find a way. They were worn and sore in the days of yore, Those feet of mutable clay; Now on wings of white in untiring flight My mother will cleave her way. I shall know it well when she comes to dwell -- For a year or a month or a day; No fragment of speech my senses may reach, But mother will find a way. Sad things she will see when she comes to me, My sins -- a wretched array; But I'm sure of her will to believe in me still -- And mothers will find a way. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A THOUGHT SUGGESTED BY A VIEW, OF SADDLEBACK IN CUMBERLAND by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE IN MAY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR WHAT OF THE DARKNESS?; TO THE HAPPY DEAD PEOPLE by RICHARD THOMAS LE GALLIENNE MODERN LOVE: 47 by GEORGE MEREDITH THE BRONZE STATUE OF NAPOLEON by AUGUSTE BARBIER THY DREAMS ARE THE DEEDS OF MEN by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |