I conceived. And Sorrow Stirred within the womb. My loins were pushed asunder To make Adam room. We met on the blonde uplands That overlook the sea And swift did Adam's navel Blot out my agony. The East is far and weary. The thrush's young are fed. I go down among the leaf mould To mash my head. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 2 by ALFRED TENNYSON LET NO CHARITABLE HOPE by ELINOR WYLIE PSALM 93 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE IDYLL 7. OF HYACINTHUS by BION BANKS OF DEVON by ROBERT BURNS A SLEEPING CHILD by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH |