The Mother Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBCC DDEEFGHIHIJJKK LLGGMM KKNNKK OPQRDD SSTTUU VVWXYZA2B2

As Peace on earth the glad world sings one glorious Christmas mornA
Peace peace on earth Good will to men Peace peace the Christ is bornA
As through the courts the wondrous courts of heaven hosannas ringB
As harpers strike their harps of gold and Glory Glory singB
Upon the City's threshold fairC
A woman steps and lingers thereC
-
The eyes she turns on Peter's face with unshed tears are dimD
Tell Christ she says a mother waits who fain would speak with HimD
Through all the music far above the highest grandest noteE
Of triumph and of joy and praise her soft voice seems to floatE
And hearing it straight from His throneF
Comes down to her the Kingly OneG
With shining face and eyes that holdH
Such wealth of love and peaceI
She feels her trembling heart grow boldH
Her doubt and grieving ceaseI
Dear Lord she cries and lowly kneels I have a prayer to makeJ
O do Thou hear and answer it for Thine own mercy's sakeJ
Since heaven will not seem fair to meK
If one dear face I may not seeK
-
Dear Christ a mother's love is greatL
To shield to guide to watch to waitL
The last kiss that I gave on earth was to my wayward sonG
Whose soul though deeply stain d by sin may yet by love be wonG
To penitence to higher walk to purer holier wayM
O wilt Thou let me to go to him and guard him night and dayM
-
Thou wert a babe in Bethlehem a mother guarded TheeK
I pray Thee now for her dear sake to hearken unto meK
Remember how she held Thee close and crooned Thee sweet and lowN
The lullabies that mothers sang long centuries agoN
And bared her snowy breast to TheeK
And stroked Thy forehead tenderlyK
-
And kissed Thee oft and told herself again and yet againO
To hold Thee thus one hour outweighed the travail and the painP
Dear Christ this city is most fair its glories thrill and moveQ
O doth it grieve Thee that my heart cleaves to an earthly loveR
That on mine eyes heaven's beauties dimD
Because my heart is back with himD
-
With him the wandering son of mine the wayward one whose needS
Of patient love and guiding hand is very great indeedS
Think not I love Thee not dear Lord nor long for heaven's restT
'Tis only that the mother heart throbs fiercely in my breastT
On this glad morning of Thy birthU
O grant me leave to visit earthU
-
Lo on her head she feels the touch of tender wounded handV
Fear not she hears a love like thine the Christ can understandV
No mother prays in vain to Me on this day of the yearW
For when the faltering words she speaks fall on My waiting earX
I do remember that My cheekY
Lay on a bosom warmZ
I do remember BethlehemA2
And Mary's cradling armB2

Jean Blewett



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