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.
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