Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MOTHERHOOD, by EDITH BROWNELL



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MOTHERHOOD, by            
First Line: Gray gloomed the hillside
Last Line: "ah, comfort thou the mother of the thief!"
Subject(s): Mothers


GRAY gloomed the hillside. Through the solemn hush
Of dole, the third dark hour--reluctant, shamed--
Slow yielded to its close.

Below the cross
The Holy Mother knelt in quivering calm
Her waiting arms in anguish upward reached
To take again her Son, her little boy,--
Her baby!--while, pale through the mystic dusk
Her lifted face in adoration dwelt
Upon her Lord.

Then near at hand there broke
A woman's sobbing, low and wretched and fierce,
The cry of one whose hurt is worse than death;
And Mary, bending sweet within her veil,
Laid her high grief aside to pray, "Dear God,
Ah, comfort Thou the mother of the thief!"







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