Home they brought her warrior dead: She nor swooned, nor uttered cry; All her maidens, watching, said, "She must weep or she will die." Then they praised him, soft and low, Called him worthy to be loved, Truest friend and noblest foe; Yet she neither spoke nor moved. Stole a maiden from her place, Lightly to the warrior stept, Took the face-cloth from the face; Yet she neither moved nor wept. Rose a nurse of ninety years, Set his child upon her knee, -- Like summer tempest came her tears, "Sweet my child, I live for thee." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOLY POEMS: 1 by GEORGE BARKER THE COUNTRY CLERGYMAN'S TRIP TO CAMBRIDGE; ELECTION BALLAD by THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM by ALEXANDER POPE ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 20 by PHILIP SIDNEY ANECDOTE OF THE JAR by WALLACE STEVENS THE LORD OF BURLEIGH by ALFRED TENNYSON THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONATUICA): THE MEETING by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS |