Thou selfish child! Ready to fret and whine
When disappointed. Wandering to and fro
In quest of joy, from flower to flower dost go
Like greedy bee upon a honeyed vine.
But thou, Affection, human art, and true!
Fitted for every day's most urgent needs;
Warm-glowing ever, all the seasons through;
Mother of tenderness and selfless deeds.
Clear-seeing thou, nor like that other blind;
Clear-burning on the hearths of all mankind.