Saints seem to shine from far off sphere,
Canonized they get a halo.
Teresa, ere a dear mother,
Now hallowed, shines— pink to yellow,
From unknown spheres, not Earth below.
And if one gets in mind nigh clear,
Never from false fame to wallow,
So humble, mothers have no peer,
Nor yet from a pedestal glow,
One, we always from close...
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