San Lorenzo’s Mother
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.
If 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.

Webpage © 2001 ELC
Lane Core Jr. (
Created April 11, 2001; not revised.