St. Leon raised his kindling eye, And lifts the sparkling cup on high; "I drink to one," he said, "Whose image never may depart, Deep graven on this grateful heart, Till memory be dead." . . . . St. Leon paused, as if he would Not breathe her name in careless mood Thus lightly to another; Then bent his noble head, as though To give the word the reverence due, And gently said, "My mother!"