TOUCH me not, mother, who art thou, To lay a hand on me? My soul was driven through sun and moon Ere I was come to thee! My soul was blown through the solid earth, It rode upon the sea, And the whirling planet brought me forth Ere I was come to thee. My feet have traveled by blood, by blood, That guts a road through the hearts of men. I lodged me safe beneath their mood And then drove on again. Touch me not, mother, for I must burn, Such ancient fires flame in me! Frail web that caught a scattered pollen, I was not born of thee! I must be strange, for I am far! Oh, near and far as is the air! I drank a strong milk out of a star -- For lo! thou wast not there. Touch me not, mother! I was not held By pleading, stone, or solid seas, What is there in Thy wistful flesh More strong than these? If thou came out of the moon and star I plucked thee forth by my desire. I can bold thee burning in my hand! It was my hand that shaped the fire. Thou didst house thee in the mood Of folk that perished long ago, It was the whisper in my blood That brought thee, whether thou wouldst or no. I am more frail than water or stone, But yet I shall not let thee go! Thou art my son, and mine alone, Because I love thee so! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MARIANNA ALCOFORANDO by SARA TEASDALE EVENING SONG OF THE TYROLESE PEASANTS by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS A TERNARIE OF LITTLES, UPON A PIPKIN OF JELLIE by ROBERT HERRICK CHOEPHOROI: INVOCATION OF AGAMEMNON'S GHOST by AESCHYLUS EPISTLES ON THE CHARACTER AND CONDITION OF WOMEN: 2 by LUCY AIKEN VERSES TO HER WHO IS JUSTLY ENTITLED TO THEM by BERNARD BARTON |