At the sound of feet she turns, while her heart has made such stir
That makes her grip her stick more close and head grow more erect:
She sees a priest's worn cassock, and priests are sore to her,
For as a child she knew they moved where life's best ships were wrecked.
"Madame, your son is dead," said he, with lowered glance:
"But he bade them say the lilies yet are strong within the gale,
He died a hero's death for honour and for France!"
Then the mother faced and fixed his eyes, but the cheeks were drawn and pale.
"I thank you for these words, for I see God spared him speech
Before he died, and there are mothers for whom no words atone