Mothers of many, with envious eyes,
Gaze as I drive through the evening cool,
Swift as I pass them, we mingle our sighs,
For my arms are empty--and theirs over-full.
"See her," they say, "with her laces and pearls!
All for the rich! 'Tis the world's common rule.
We have but rags for our boys and our girls;
Empty our pockets--her coffers are full."
Mothers! To yours, tender voices reply,
Little ones' hands at your skirts softly pull;
Widowed and lonely and childless am I,
Empty my heart--though my coffers are full.
--_Gus Gordon._
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