Woman who walked home on the arm of John Another way from that your Son had gone, Woman who walked And talked, Unwavering, of what must yet be done -- Woman, behold your son! Behold Him who in boyhood haunts will not grow old; Who goes predestined to an alien grave In clay or sand or wave -- Yet sails enamored of one hope: to see, As John from his dawn-lit faces on the shore At Shantung or the coast of Travancore. Woman who walked home on the arm of John, When on Some night of tears I hear the palm trees toss, Stand by my side beneath the Southern Cross. |