His Mother.
By James Whitcomb Riley
DEAD! my wayward boy - my own -
Not the Law's! but mine - the good
God's free gift to me alone,
Sanctified by motherhood.
"Bad," you say: Well, who is not?
"Brutal" - "with a heart of stone" -
And "red-handed." - Ah! the hot
Blood upon your own!
I come not, with downward eyes,
To plead for him shamedly, -
God did not apologize
When He gave the boy to me.
Simply, I make ready now
For His verdict. - You prepare -
You have killed us both - and how
Will you face us There!