The lying tongue of blame of praise,
The cobra’s fang, the tiger’s tongue,
The python’s murderous embrace—
The wrath of any living thing
A man may fear but bravely face.
But thou, cold Mother, knowest naught
Of love, of hate, or joy, or woe;
Thy bounties come to man unsought,
Thy curses fall on friend and foe.
Thou bearest balm upon thy breath,