Thou, while thy babes around thee cling, Shalt show us how divine a thing A Woman may be made.

Dear Child of Nature, let them rail!

But an old age serene and bright, And lovely as a Lapland night, Shall lead thee to thy grave.

The light that never was, on sea or land, The consecration, and the poet's dream.

Every wife is like Mary the Blessed and may bear a saviour of mankind. The road is long, but the ways of Heaven are sure.

Cold on Canadian hills or Minden's plain, Perhaps that parent mourned her soldier slain; Bent o'er her babe, her eye dissolved in dew, The big drops mingling w…

Being a housewife and a mother is the biggest job in the world, but if it doesn't interest you, don't do it - I would have made a terrible mother.