MOTHERS and sisters, whom no sacrifice Dismays, nor whom your long, laborious hours Do anywise appall, ye are the powers By whom the swift are girded for the prize They reach in the light of your believing eyes. Ye are the hidden oil the shrine devours — Soil of the garden whence the great rose flowers — The silent force that bids a star arise. Ye ask of men nor honour, nor regret, Nor memory, save one's whose love is all. Renouncement? Living daily the divine! Effacement? Still the world your names shall call: Monica was the mother of Augustine; Pascal had Jacqueline — Renan, Henriette! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DINNER IN A QUICK LUNCH ROOM by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET CONTRA MORTEM: THE NOTHING II by HAYDEN CARRUTH BUT NOW by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO RIDGELY TORRENCE - PLAYWRIGHT by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE BLACK MAMMY by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE CRANES OF IBYCUS by EMMA LAZARUS TOWARD THE GULF; DEDICATED TO THEODORE ROOSEVELT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |