What Brings the Mother?

See what is wrought by Her busy hands?
How She's changed the face of many lands!
In the benevolent gaze of maternal mood,
Motavia blooms; Dezoris parts its fog.
But behind the milk and rhyme and meter,
beyond this Right who knows no Wrong,
can't Her brood do more than be led along?
Brings She nothing sweeter
than a piper's song?