The Hand that rocks the Cradle – by William Rose Wallace

Blessings on the hand of women!
Angels guard its strength and grace,
In the palace, cottage, hovel,
Oh, no matter where the place;
Would that never storms assailed it,
Rainbows ever gently curled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

Infancy's the tender fountain,
Power may with beauty flow,
Mother's first to guide the streamlets,
From them souls unresting grow—
Grow on for the good or evil,
Sunshine streamed or evil hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

Woman, how divine your mission
Here upon our natal sod!
Keep, oh, keep the young heart open
Always to the breath of God!
All true trophies of the ages
Are from mother-love impearled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

Blessings on the hand of women!
Fathers, sons, and daughters cry,
And the sacred song is mingled
With the worship in the sky—
Mingles where no tempest darkens,
Rainbows evermore are hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

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About the Poet

William Ross Wallace (1819-81) was an American poet of Scottish descent, who wrote poetry and songs, as well as practiced law. Wallace’s poetry was fervently patriotic, extolling the virtues of the American Revolution and portraying its leaders—such as George Washington—in an almost divine light. He was a regular writer to several periodicals, including The New York Ledger, Godey’s Lady’s Book, Harpers’ Magazine, Harpers’ Weekly, and Celtic Monthly, and many of his poems were adopted as marching tunes by Union Army soldiers. He published numerous volumes of poetry, which were well received by the audience, critics, and fellow poets such as William Cullen Bryant and Edgar Allen Poe.

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