Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO MY MOTHER, by GEORGE BARKER



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TO MY MOTHER, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Most near, most dear, most loved and most far,
Last Line: That she will move from mourning into morning.
Variant Title(s): Sonnet To My Mother
Subject(s): Love; Mothers; World War Ii; Second World War


Most near, most dear, most loved and most far,
Under the window where I often found her
Sitting as huge as Asia, seismic with laughter,
Gin and chicken helpless in her Irish hand,
Irresistible as Rabelais, but most tender for
The lame dogs and hurt birds that surround her, --
She is a procession no one can follow after
But be like a little dog following a brass band.

She will not glance up at the bomber, or condescend
To drop her gin and scuttle to the cellar,
But lean on the mahogany table like a mountain
Whom only faith can move, and so I send
O all my faith and all my love to tell her
That she will move from mourning into morning.




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