SAN LORENZO GIUSTINIANI’S MOTHER.

And we the shadows of the dream.

Shelley.

I had not seen my son’s dear face

(He chose the cloister by God’s grace)

Since it had come to full flower-time.

I hardly guessed at its perfect prime,

That folded flower of his dear face.

Mine eyes were veiled by mists of tears

When on a day in many years

One of his order came. I thrilled

Facing, I thought, that face fulfilled.

I doubted, for my mists of tears.

His blessing be with me for ever!

My hope and doubt were hard to sever.

—That altered face, those holy weeds.

I filled his wallet and kissed his beads.

And lost his echoing feet for ever.

49If to my son my alms were given

I know not, and I wait for Heaven.

He did not plead for child of mine,

But for another Child divine,

And unto Him it was surely given.

There is one alone who cannot change;

Dreams are we, shadows, visions strange;

And all I give is given to one.

I might mistake my dearest son,

But never the Son who cannot change.

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