Audrey Pongracz - Her voice among the aisles
“Nature, the gentlest of Mothers is,
Impatient of no child,
The feeblest of the waywardest.
Her admonition mild.
In forest and the hill,
by traveler be heard,
restraining rampant squirrel
Or too impetuous bird.
How fair her conversation
A summer afternoon,
Her household her assembly
And when the sun go down
Her voice among the Aisles,
Incite the timid prayer
of the minutest cricket,
the most unworthy flower.
When all the children sleep
She turns as long away
As will suffice to light her lamps,
the bending from the sky
With infinite affection,
and infiniter care,
her golden finger on her lip,
Wills silence everywhere.”