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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=355093" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Down To The Mothers</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=355093" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Linger no more, my beloved, by abbey and cell and cathedral;<br>Mourn not for holy ones mourning of old them who knew not the Father,<br>Weeping with fast and scourge, when the bridegroom was taken from them.<br>Drop back awhile through the years, to the warm rich youth of the nations,<br>Childlike in virtue and faith, though childlike in passion and pleasure,<br>Childlike still, and still near to their God, while the day-spring of Eden<br>Lingered in rose-red rays on the peaks of Ionian mountains.<br>Down to the mothers, as Faust went, I go, to the roots of our manhood,<br>Mothers of us in our cradles; of us once more in our glory.<br>New-born, body and soul, in the great pure world which shall be<br>In the renewing of all things, when man shall return to his Eden<br>Conquering evil, and death, and shame, and the slander of conscience-<br>Free in the sunshine of Godhead-and fearlessly smile on his Father.<br>Down to the mothers I go-yet with thee still!-be with me, thou purest!<br>Lead me, thy hand in my hand; and the dayspring of God go before us.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=355093" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>Eversley, 1852.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Charles+Kingsley">Charles Kingsley</a></strong></div>