University of Virginia Library

So dumbly, blindly,
So cheerly, sweetly,
The beautiful Mother
Of mortals smiled;
Her children marvell'd
And looked upon her—
Her patient features
Were bright and mild;
And on her eyeballs
Night and day,
A sweet light glimmer'd
From far away.
Her children gather'd
With sobs and cries,
To see the sweetness
Of sightless eyes;
But though she held them
So dear, so dear,
She could not answer,
She could not hear.
She felt them flutter
Around her knee,
She felt their weeping,
Yet knew not wherefore—
She could not see.
‘O Mother! Mother
Of mortal race!
Is there a Father?
Is there a Face?’
She felt their sorrow
Against her cheek,—
She could not hearken,
She could not speak;
With thin lips fluttering,
With blind eyes tearful,
And features pale,
She clasp'd her children,
And looked in silence
Upon the Veil.

Her hair grew silvern,
The swift days fled,
Her lap was heavy
With children dead;
To her heart she held them,
But could not warm them—
The life within them
Was gone like dew.
Whiter, stiller,
The Mother grew.

The World grew hoary,
The World was weary,
The children cried at
The empty air:
‘Father of mortals!’
The children murmured,
‘Father! Father!
Art Thou there?’
Then the Master answer'd
From the thunder-cloud:
‘I am God the Maker!
I am God the Master!
I am God the Father!’
He cried aloud.
Further, the Master
Made sign on sign—
Footprints of his spirits,
Voices divine;
His breath was a water,
His cry was a wind.

But the people heard not,
The people saw not,—
Earth and her children
Were deaf and blind.