IN wrecked Termonde, that 'mid the tramp and bellow Of War's mad herd saw ruin on ruin piled, The enemy had deflowered with havoc wild A fair abode of Sculpture without fellow; And while the autumn sunlight rich and mellow On Art's poor shattered glories sadly smiled, There, still unmaimed, with her unwounded child, Leaned a serene Madonna of Donatello. O'er a fledged Hermes, lord of speed and spoil -- O'er a bemired and fall'n Laocoon -- Near a prone Venus of the dust, she shone. O'er winged Deceit, and Agony's serpent coil, And Beauty born to inflame and to entoil, Motherhood, scatheless, lived divinely on. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE VIRGINS, TO MAKE MUCH OF TIME by ROBERT HERRICK IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 14 by ALFRED TENNYSON A DREAM OF DEATH by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS VILLANELLE: AU RETOUR DU PRINTEMPS by PHILIP SCHUYLER ALLEN TO A GARDEN -- ON LEAVING IT by WILLIAM BARNES TO THE MEMORY OF SAMUEL WHITBREAD by BERNARD BARTON |