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You painted no Madonnas
on chapel walls in Rome
But with a touch divine
you lived one in your home
You wrote no lofty poems
that critics counted art
But with a nobler vision
you lived them in your heart
You carved no shapeless marble
into some high soul design
But with a finer sculpture
you shaped this soul of mine
You built no great cathedrals
that centuries applaud
But with a grace exquisite
your life cathedraled God
Had I the gift of Raphael
or that of Michelangelo
Oh, what a rare Madonna
my mother's life would show
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