. To mother . THE day is drear and misery is keen,I live beneath the shadow of yourfrown—Harsh words were spoken no regretscan drown,And we are silent, with our pride such a little word that made thesting,Yet with the stillness how it grows apace,Until it fills the room and all ofspace,Leering at us, like some misshapenthing. %

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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookidtomother00co, bookyear1911