THIS master-stroke that deals with the divine Is richly human: thoughts of pomp and praise Merge into tender pity; the benign Face of the woman only speaks of days When, as a little lad, the Christ would cling Unto her garment's hem, and she would bend To help him, or would haply bide to sing Some homespun croon that might his sorrow mend. Man-grown, she saw Him crucified, and now, His broken body from the fearful tree Cherishing in her arms, with eye and brow That broods the past, she scarcely seems to see The future with its glory; you but feel That she is blest all other dames above, Because her own small son at last may steal Back to the mother-lap, the mother-love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAND OF DREAMS by WILLIAM BLAKE THE COUNTRY FAITH by NORMAN ROWLAND GALE THE CHILDREN'S HOUR by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 23. AL-KHAFIZ by EDWIN ARNOLD DIRGE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SUMMER RAINSTORM by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE OLD YEAR by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN GOD'S BRANDED CHILD by HERMAN J. D. CARTER ON THE MEMORY OF MR. EDWARD KING, DROWNED IN THE IRISH SEAS by JOHN CLEVELAND |