Page:Flower of youth, poems in war time, Tynan, 1915.djvu/42

40 Mary, Mother of all men,

Come and comfort him in pain.

Take his young head to the breast

Where your Child and God had rest.

Mary, Mary, step so light.

Mary, lay your fingers white

On his forehead! He shall dream

That his mother comforts him.

Mary, Mother, croon him o'er

Lullabies you sang before!

Mary, ease him, crooning low,

In the way that mothers know!