M ARY smiled on her little Son,
“Now, why hast Thou left Thy play?”
“But to touch thy hands with my hands, Mother,
Lest sometime there come a day
When I may not close them within mine own,
Though they fall as hurt doves may.”

Mary smiled on her little Son,
“Now blind wouldst Thou have me go
That mine eyes Thou hast closed with kisses twain?”
“My Mother, I may not know,
But I fear a day when they look on pain
And I may not close them so.”

Mary smiled on her little Son,
Close, close in her arms pressed He:
“O Mother, my Mother, my heart on thine
Lest sometime a day may be
When I may not comfort nor make it whole,
Though it break for love of me.”

Now think you that on Calvary's hill
Whereon her Son was slain,
She felt upon her eyes that touch
That veiled them unto pain,
And filled her groping hands, and bade
Her torn heart beat again?