DEAR mother, take me to thy breast! I have no other place of rest In all this weary world of men: Ah! fold me in thy love again, Sweet mother; clasp me to thy breast! From out thy womb, long since, I came, A creature wrought of dust and flame; I knew no mortal mother's grace, But only viewed @3thy@1 mystic face, That softly went, and softly came! I knew thee in the sunset grand, The waveless calm, the silvery strand; From out the shimmering twilight-bars I saw thee smile between the stars, Divinely sweet, or softly grand! I heard, beneath the sylvan arch, Thy battling winds, led on by March, Sweep where the solemn pine-tops close About its ravaged, dim repose -- Hushed, awed, beneath the woodland arch! I heard thee, 'mid some tender hour, In lisping leaf and rustling flower, In low lute-breathings of the breeze, And tidal sighs o'er moonless seas Star-charmed in midnight's mournful hour! I thrilled at each far-whispered tone That touched me from thy vast unknown, At every dew-bright hint that fell From out thy soul unsearchable, Yea, each strange hint and shadowy tone! I felt, through dim, awe-laden space, The coming of thy veiled face; And in the fragrant night's eclipse The kisses of thy deathless lips, Like strange star-pulses, throbbed through space! Now mine own pulses, beating low, Whisper the spent life: "@3Thou must go@1; @3Even as a wasted rivulet, pass Beyond the light, beneath the grass, For strength grows faint, and hope is low!@1" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...STANZAS FOR MUSIC (4) by GEORGE GORDON BYRON EASTER by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES TO JOHN DRYDEN, ESQ.; POET LAUREATE AND HISTOGRAPHER ROYAL by PHILIP AYRES YELLOW WARBLERS by KATHARINE LEE BATES STRANGER by HARRIET GRAY BLACKWELL |