Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MOTHER-COMFORT, by MARGARET ELIZABETH MUNSON SANGSTER


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

MOTHER-COMFORT, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Friend, upon whose golden tresses
Last Line: Such sweet blessing from the throne?
Alternate Author Name(s): Van Deth, Gerrit, Mrs.
Subject(s): Comfort; Love; Mothers


FRIEND, upon whose golden tresses
Frost of time begins to fall,
Though your heart is like the mellow
Fruit beside the garden wall,
Tell me! Do you not remember
Sunny days of long ago,
When the world was full of beauty,
Full of sparkle and of glow,—
When one gentle face was fairer
Far than artist e'er could paint,
Face that wears in reverent memory
Aureole circlet of a saint?

When the little heart was troubled
Sometimes, in those distant days,
Grieving o'er a brittle plaything,
Sad, for blame instead of praise;
When the rain of tears was falling,
And the passion of the hour
Beat against the wounded spirit,
Like the storm against a flower,—
Then the comfort of the mother,
Soft as sunshine, always stole
Through the tumult and the turmoil,
Bringing peace unto the soul.

Never accents were so tender,
Never touch so light and strong,
Never voice in speech so cadenced
To the measure of a song,
And beneath her dewy kisses,
And her murmured-cooing words,
And the magic of her patience,
Hearts were hushed like nestling birds,
That the mother-breast hath sheltered,
And the mother-wings enfold,
While the cloud is on the midnight,
And the wind is in the wold.

Ah! Those days were long and happy,
Though a trifle could obscure
All their brightness; yet their troubles
Just a single kiss could cure.
Then the peril and the danger
Stayed outside the door of home,
And we felt so safe by mother,—
Dared the wildest grief to come,—
Careless of its utmost menace,
When the summer's silver fleece,
Trembled o'er the radiant heaven,
Blue and luminous with peace.

Now no word of all the Scripture
Thrills a sweeter chord than this,
Stirs a richer retrospection
Of the soul's experienced bliss,
Than this promise, where the Spirit
Strengthens weak and timid faith
With assurance of His comfort:
"As the mother comforteth."

Oh! when mother-lips no longer
Kiss the sudden tears away,
When the idol of our loving
Can with us no longer stay,
Needs the heart bereft to murmur,
Bowing in the dust alone,
When the Christ will stoop to send it,
Such sweet blessing from the throne?





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