Dead! my wayward boy--my own--
Not _the Law's_, but mine; the good
God's free gift to me alone,
Sanctified by motherhood.
"Bad," you say: well, who is not?
"Brutal"--"With a heart of stone"--
And "red-handed." Ah! the hot
Blood upon your own!
I come not with downward eyes,
To plead for him shamedly:
God did not apologize
When He gave the boy to me.
Simply, I make ready now
For His verdict. You prepare--
You have killed us both--and how
Will you face us There!
_E. W._