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And whether where rolled the Potomac,
Or here by the Nashua's tide,—
Everywhere the wives and the mothers,
Sat their desolate hearth-stones beside.

How nobly they trusted and waited,
How bravely they hoped as they prayed;
With hands ever faithful to duty,
And feet that no danger delayed.

Ever earnestly guarding and holding
The home-trusts left in their care,
Who shall call them less brave than the soldiers
Who went forth to do and to dare?

Thus these pictures add story to story,
And the half can never be told,
Of the noble lives of the mothers
Who lived in those days of old.

And we, as we number their virtues,
And the deeds that ennobled their days,
Can honor them best, in the making
Our own lives worthy of praise.

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