●   ●   ●    can be glimpsed today through a few letters, a few scattered references by others—and through the lifelong outpouring of love and gratitude to her from her youngest daughter. In a long poem in Popean couplets composed when she was sixteen, Mary Baker was to write about what she called, with the exuberant dolefulness of adolescence, the “withered wastes of earth,” but among those wastes was “one stream” which Flows gently forth from childhood by my side Changeless as pure its ne’er receeding tide And oft its fount of goodness bathes from woe And in its silv’ry surf and faithful flow I see that stream whose fount is purity In tranquil course on to eternity To mingle with its ocean depths above It is a mother’s deep undying love.