At the cross, her station keeping,
Stood the mournful mother, weeping,
Where He hung, the dying Lord.
read more

At the cross, her station keeping,
Stood the mournful mother, weeping,
Where He hung, the dying Lord.
[Lat., Stabat mater, dolorosa
Juxta crucem lacrymosa
Que pendebat Filius.]

The one point on which all women are in furious secret rebellion
against the existing law is the saddling read more

The one point on which all women are in furious secret rebellion
against the existing law is the saddling of the right to a child
with the obligation to become the servant of a man.

There is none,
In all this cold and hollow world, no fount
Of deep, strong, deathless love, read more

There is none,
In all this cold and hollow world, no fount
Of deep, strong, deathless love, save that within
A mother's heart.

Happy he
With such a mother! faith in womankind
Beats with his blood, and trust in all read more

Happy he
With such a mother! faith in womankind
Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high
Comes easy to him, and though he trip and fall,
He shall not blind his soul with clay.

The bearing and the training of a child
Is woman's wisdom.

The bearing and the training of a child
Is woman's wisdom.

The mother said to her daughter, "Daughter, bid thy daughter tell
her daughter that her daughter's daughter hath a read more

The mother said to her daughter, "Daughter, bid thy daughter tell
her daughter that her daughter's daughter hath a daughter."

Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also,
and he praiseth her.

Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also,
and he praiseth her.

And Adam called his wife's name Eve; because she was the mother
of all living.

And Adam called his wife's name Eve; because she was the mother
of all living.

That it should come to this,
But two months dead, nay, not so much, not two,
So read more

That it should come to this,
But two months dead, nay, not so much, not two,
So excellent a king, that was to this
Hyperion to a satyr, so loving to my mother
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth,
Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on, and yet within a month--
Let me not think on't; frailty, thy name is woman--
A little month, or ere those shoes were old
With which she followed my poor father's body
Like Niobe, all tears, why she, even she--
O God, a beast that wants discourse of reason
Would have mourned longer--married with my uncle,
My father's brother, but no more like my father
Than I to Hercules.