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78 | In This Our World But selfish, slavish service hour by hour— A life with no beyond! False Play “Do you love me?” asked the mother of her child, And the baby answered, “No!” Great Love listened and sadly smiled; He knew the love in the heart of the child— That you could not wake it so. “Do not love me?” the foolish mother cried, And the baby answered, “No!” He knew the worth of the trick she tried— Great Love listened, and grieving, sighed That the mother scorned him so. “Oh, poor mama!” and she played her part Till the baby’s strength gave way: He knew it was false in his inmost heart, But he could not bear that her tears should start, So he joined in the lying play. “Then love mama!” and the soft lips crept To the kiss that his love should show,— The mouth to speak while the spirit slept! Great Love listened, and blushed, and wept That they blasphemed him so. Motherhood Motherhood: First mere laying of an egg, With blind foreseeing of the wisest place, And blind provision of the proper food For unseen larva to grow fat upon After the instinct-guided mother died,— Posthumous motherhood, no love, no joy. Motherhood: Brooding patient o’er the nest, With gentle stirring of an unknown love; Defending eggs unhatched, feeding the young For days of callow feebleness, and then Driving the fledglings from the nest to fly. Motherhood: When the kitten and the cub Cried out alive, the first the mother knew The fumbling of furry little paws, The pressure of the hungry little mouths Against the more than ready mother-breast,— The love that comes of giving and of care. ...

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