Select poems / by L.H. Sigourney [electronic resource]

THE MOTHER OF WASHINGTON.

On the laying of the Corner-stone of her Monument at Fredericksburg, Virginia.

LONG hast thou slept unnoted. Nature stole In her soft ministry around thy bed, Spreading her vernal tissue, violet-gemmed, And pearled with dews. She bade bright Summer bring Gifts of frankincense, with sweet song of birds, And Autumn cast his reaper's coronet Down at thy feet, and stormy Winter speak Sternly of man's neglect. But now we come To do thee homage—mother of our chief! Fit homage—such as honoreth him who pays. Methinks we see thee—as in olden time— Simple in garb—majestic and serene, Unmoved by pomp or circumstance—in truth Inflexible, and with a Spartan zeal

Repressing vice and making folly grave. Thou didst not deem it woman's part to waste Life in inglorious sloth—to sport awhile Amid the flowers, or on the summer wave, Then fleet, like the ephemeron, away, Building no temple in her children's hearts, Save to the vanity and pride of life Which she had worshipped. For the might that clothed The "Pater Patiæ," for the glorious deeds That make Mount Vernon's tomb a Mecca shrine To all the earth, what thanks to thee are due, Who, 'mid his elements of being, wrought, We know not—Heaven can tell. Rise, sculptured pile And show a race unborn who rests below; And say to mothers what a holy charge Is theirs—with what a kingly power their love Might rule the fountains of the new-born mind. Warn them to wake at early dawn—and sow Good seed before the world hath sown her tares; Nor in their toil decline—that angel bands May put the sickle in, and reap for God, And gather to his garner. Ye, who stand, With thrilling breast, to view her trophied praise, Who nobly reared Virginia's godlike chief— Ye, whose last thought upon your nightly couch,

Whose first at waking, is your cradled son, What though no high ambition prompts to rear A second Washington; or leave your name Wrought out in marble with a nation's tears Of deathless gratitude;—yet may you raise A monument above the stars—a soul Led by your teachings, and your prayers to God.