V.
Now,
To his mother where she stands,
Envied by the childless lands,
Bring him back with reverent hands.
Lonely mother, it is well
That your sorrowing lips should tell
Once again repentant woe
For the wound of long ago,
For rebuke that hurt him so!
No reproof could alienate
Patriot soul from patriot state;—
Grandly patient, he could wait,
Cancelling reproachful past,
Words that almost came too late!
“You were right and we were wrong!”
Strong and clear they came at last;
And his sovereign spirit, great
In forgiveness for the long
Silent strain so gently borne,
Hearing Massachusetts mourn
For the wrong that she had done
Turned to her, her reverent son.
Ere her last word met his ear,
He had answered—he is here!