Page:Home; or, The unlost paradise (IA homeorunlostpara00palm).pdf/92

 Mother!—earth's dearest word—from morn till eve Fall lovingly from many a coral lip. Ye have been sowing long. With line on line, Lessons of wisdom and of heavenly truth, No season lost, it hath been yours to pour Into fresh opening souls, that to receive What from your lips distilled were ever fain. Have ye not sought to form for virtue's tasks, To shape to some true life-work, these the sons And daughters given from God, your highest trust? Draws nigh the reaping time. What most your hearts For many a year have wished, your eyes shall see— Your children, girded for life's contests high, By Providence led forth. For this ye prayed. Arrows not always in the quiver rest; Fledged birds, not in the nest for ever stay; Arrow, or bird, each at its hour must fly. Onward—still onward—is the call divine That all of mortal birth must hear and heed. 'Tis so that pleasures ever new are born Out of new issues and oft-shifting scenes;