THE MOTHER’S TRAGEDY 9
Of my old life; I sought another world.
I ‘‘ got religion ””"—how I hate the phrase !—
So jest the matron newspapers. The end.
Since then I lived, as I am living still,
Wrapped in the all-absorbing love of him
My child, my child! And now my selfishness
Is shamed, and I have made the sacrifice
To give this pure heart to that maidenly,
And let mine old age grow upon my hair,
Finding my happiness in seeing him
The all-devoted, and in God’s good pleasure
Have little children playing at my knees,
That I may listen, in their innocent prayers,
For Jesus’ voice. And I will never break
The secret of his being to my boy
Lest he despise me. This one reticence
I think my long-drawn agony may earn,
For I will do without a mother’s name
If only I may keep a son’s love still! [ Exe.
SPIRIT OF TRAGEDY.
She will not break an oath so wisely sworn,
Unlock her secret to disdain.
Wisdom is hers—what angel need to warn ?
Since angels only seek to gain
That wisdom of the unprofane.
All future happiness I surely see.
I am the Soul of Tragedy!
Enter ULRIC.