Woman, you are big with child. Life pulses and stirs in the cloister of your warm womb; That life your love and passion brought into being. No tears now gleam in your pain-racked eyes; No quiver is noticeable upon your parted lips; You are destined to bear a child; For days you have dreamed of this great fulfillment. Now you do not smile; You do not cry out; You make no move; Only that spark of life within you is stirring restlessly. That little life will never cause you a tear And never a smile. You will not worry as other mothers must; You will be spared the knowledge of disappointment, And denied the sweetness of childish confidence. Though warm within your womb new life is struggling, Your baby, your own flesh and blood, You make no sign; No pain disturbs you; No joy is burning In your milk-swelled breasts. The doctor is bending over you with long forceps. You do not cringe; You do not moan; You know no fear; You feel no pain; Alas, little mother, you are dead! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PARAGRAPHS: 15 by HAYDEN CARRUTH SIGNS OF THE TIMES by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 12 by OMAR KHAYYAM TO A CONTEMPORARY BUNKSHOOTER by CARL SANDBURG GREAT BELL ROLAND; SUGGESTED BY PRESIDENT'S CALL VOLUNTEERS by THEODORE TILTON THE CRICKET by FREDERICK GODDARD TUCKERMAN AN ORIGINAL THOUGHT by MARIA ABDY ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 12. ON RECOVERING FROM A FIT OF SICKNESS IN COUNTRY by MARK AKENSIDE |