The Great War

from Herb o' Grace, an electronic edition

The Mother Gives Up Her Daughter

Though I must yield her up to you, her lover,

I have had sweetness more than you can know,

The little great-eyed maid beyond recover,

And all her tender worship long ago.

Oh, you are wild for her and little wonder!

She is so fair, so honest, kind and true.

But in the lonely house I sit and ponder

On what was mine and shall not pass to you.

Oh, little darling, how the years went flying,

And I her moon, her stars, her heart's delight

I hardly knew my loss and the dear dying

Of lovely childhood with the day and night.

Take her -- oh, she is sweet beyond all praises!

You shall not have her childhood sweeter still,

Gone with the dancing daffodils and daisies,

Where she was mine upon a heavenly hill.