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THE UNVEILING Why did I weep, for I knew not the child, Nor his parents before this day? Welcomed I was, but still a stranger And, worse, a looker on. Was it the singing, sung from the heart Not from the tight lipped mouth, That moved me, A last lullaby for a lasting sleep? Or the flowers, chosen from gardens, Transmitting love from the living Through arms that had not forgotten How to hold a child? Was it the sobbing of someone close behind me? A faceless grief it was, But mirrored on every face Was the grief of one. The mountain raised its cloud veil of tears, And I looked at my own little one As he played, unconcerned, in the dirt, At the feet of the old women. The wind from the sea caressed his fair head And whispered an answer, Here is the universal love Of a mother for her son. Wendy Chisholm

Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/TAH196809.2.4

Bibliographic details

Te Ao Hou, September 1968, Page 9

Word Count
156

THE UNVEILING Te Ao Hou, September 1968, Page 9

THE UNVEILING Te Ao Hou, September 1968, Page 9

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