Because I feel that, in the Heavens above, 
The angels, whispering to one another, 
Can find, among their burning terms of love, 
None so devotional as that of `Mother,` 
Therefore by that dear name I long have called you - 
You who are more than mother unto me, 
And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed you, 
In setting my Virginia`s spirit free. 
My mother - my own mother, who died early, 
Was but the mother of myself; but you 
Are mother to the one I loved so dearly, 
And thus are dearer than the mother I knew 
By that infinity with which my wife 
Was dearer to my soul than its soul - life.