Seven songs

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I think it must somewhere be written, that the virtues of mothers
shall be visited on their children, as well as the sins of the
fathers. --Dickens.

The bravest battle that ever was fought; 
Shall I tell you where and when? 
On the maps of the world you will find it not, 
'Twas fought by the mothers of men. 

Nay, not with cannon or battle shot. 
With sword or braver pen, 
Nay, not with eloquent word or thought, 
From mouths of wonderful men; 

But deep in a woman's walled-up heart, 
Of woman that would not yield, 
But patiently, silently bore her part, 
Lo, there is that battlefield. 

No marshaling troops, no bivouac song; 
No banner to gleam and wave; 
But, those battles, they last so long, 
From babyhood to the grave! 

Yet faithful still as a bridge of stars, 
She fights in her walled-up town 
Fights on and on in the endless wars, 
Then silent, unseen, goes down.