Florence Churchill Casebeer - XVII. To My Three Children - Arthur, William, Anne Belle lyrics

My children are my own interpreters Of this strange modern world of ours, That seems to yield no keys, no pa**, no powers Into my hands, unless perchance the spurs That now and then I loan, and there occurs So grave a doubt, such hounding of the hours, I choose to trust the child, that never cowers That I may share his lot, whate'er incurs. One sweeps the univers, unseen but heart; One loafs along the field, the stream, the height; One delves into the mind's rich vein of ore. And Mother-like I pray some magic word Of mine be near, if tears should blind their sight, And may my love illumine more and more.