The woods

by Douglas Malloch

Yea, the sons we are of a motherhood, of a mother-love, divine,

And I can not slander this mother yours—if I do I slander mine;

Yea, the brothers are of a sisterhood of the sisters loved or lone,

And you can not slander the least and say that the world shall spare your own.

For a woman’s name and a woman’s fame they are sweet, and frail, as flowers;

But the strength to shield and the arm to wield for the woman’s name are ours.

Let the God-made man keep his God-made trust till his life’s last twilight fades—

For we are the sons of the mothers of men and brother to all the maids.

THE SNOW IS HERE

The snow is here.