|
LXXXIII
Mother, I shall weave a chain of pearls for thy neck
with my tears of sorrow.
The stars have wrought their anklets of light to deck thy feet,
but mine will hang upon thy breast.
Wealth and fame come from thee and it is for thee to give or to
withhold them.
But this my sorrow is absolutely mine own, and when I bring it to
thee as my fiering thou rewardest me with thy grace.
|
