While yet a boy I watched her go
before me down a long long road.
From far she seemed to move with no
restraint: no weariness or load.
She called me up: then I could see
that she was burdened and quite weary.
(That fortitude instructed me
far more than any moral theory.)
And suddenly the road is clear.
Yet in my heart it is not so:
I feel the same, my mother’s near,
as down the same road still we go.