Through The Vigils Deep Of The Sable Night A Mother Sits In Grief Alone, For Her Sons Have Gone To The Battle Front And Left On The Hearth A Crushing Stone. Beyond The Stars That Burn At Night She Sees God'S Arm In Pity Reach; It Counsels Patience, Love And Faith, Heroic Hearts And Souls To Teach. The Blue Is Spann'D And The Tide Goes Out. And The Stars Rain Down A Kindlier Cheer; And The Mother Turns From This Throne Of Grief To Pierce The Years With A Joyous Tear; For Duty Born Of A Mother'S Heart Fills All The Rounds Of Our Common Day - Yea, Sheds Its Joy In The Darkest Night, And Fills With Light Each Hidden Way. For Miss Ina Coolbrith.