Sunday, May 13, 2012


        To Mother


You painted no Madonnas 
On chapel walls in Rome, 
But with a touch diviner 
You lived one in your home. 


You wrote no lofty poems 
That critics counted art, 
But with a nobler vision 
You lived them in your heart. 


You carved no shapeless marble 
To some high-souled design, 
But with a finer sculpture 
You shaped this soul of mine. 


You built no great cathedrals 
That centuries applaud, 
But with a grace exquisite 
Your life cathedraled God. 


Had I the gift of Raphael, 
Or Michelangelo, 
Oh, what a rare Madonna 
My mother's life would show!
--Thomas W. Fessenden
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