Yours is the spirit to whom I’d resign,
Yours are the arms I would rest in, in sleep.
Yours is the face I would look to for help,
Yours are the hopes that would buoy me, until
After our labors had won, or had failed,
Yours are the thoughts that would guide me on still.
FRAGMENT
Glorious Virgin, thine the light ...
The spark-fire of maternal love ...
Of thine own self, hast thou made