IF I could only find her--for the mother-hunger's on me; I want to see and touch her, to know her close beside; I want to put my head in the hollow of her shoulder, I want to feel her love for me as she did before she died. In all the world is nothing, nothing of husband and children, In all the world is nothing that can soothe me or can stir Like the memory of her fragile hand on which the ring was slipping-- The hand that wakes my longing at the very thought of her. The window in the sunshine and the empty chair beside it, The loneliness that mocks me as I find the sacred place! Oh, mother, is there naught in the unerring speech of silence To let me know your presence, though I cannot see your face? Oh, no, I've not forgotten the triumph and the glory-- I would not bring you back again to struggle and to pain. This hour will pass; but, oh, just now, the mother-hunger's on me, And I would give my soul to-night to kiss your hair again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: LYMAN KING by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 12 by THOMAS CAMPION FROM THE DARK TOWER by COUNTEE CULLEN A CELEBRATION OF CHARIS: 1. HIS EXCUSE FOR LOVING by BEN JONSON BROTHER GENE by EVA K. ANGLESBURG A SUMMER NIGHT by MATTHEW ARNOLD A TOMB BY THE SEA by ASCLEPIADES OF SAMOS DAWN ON THE HILLS (FROM A HOTEL WINDOW) by LILLIAN ATCHERSON |