MY smallest daughter had wondered how Her dear home came by its name, Cross Brow: Her home 'mid the meres, that loveliest seem, In their autumn trance and their winter dream: Her home at the feet of the mountains high, That have entanglements with the sky. So I told her how, in a time half known And half forgotten, a Cross of Stone, 'Twixt field and fellside, here had stood -- More frail than a certain Cross of Wood; And how sweet souls that fared this way May have halted before it to kneel and pray. It is seen no longer, from dale or hill: 'Tis the Cross of Wood that is lasting still! But here, in a world of pain and loss, Where each must carry his destined cross, A frolicsome child remembers now Why the house she romps in is called Cross Brow, Though little indeed Life's gleeful morn Can know of the Brow that was crowned with thorn. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEATH SNIPS PROUD MEN by CARL SANDBURG THE MESSIAH by MABEL WARREN ARNOLD ON THE DEATH OF WALLER by APHRA BEHN OLD PLEASURES DESERTED by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN OUR LADY OF CONSOLATION by GORDON BOTTOMLEY THE CANTERBURY TALES: THE MERCHANT'S PROLOGUE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER |