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Classic and Contemporary Poetry


MOTHER OF MOTHERS by PAUL GREGAN

First Line: WEARY OF CARKING THOUGHT AND SICK OF HOPING
Last Line: THERE FOR A CALM INFINITUDE TO SLEEP!

WEARY of carking thought and sick of hoping,
Mother of Mothers, unto thee I come,
Blinded with too much light, and darkly groping,
Silent, for words are only for the dumb.
Unto thine ancient bosom, Mother, take me,
Wrap me about with arms of dusky night,
Soothe me with ocean sounds pulsative, make me,
Even as thou art, a burning stillness quite.

Here, in thy broad, green lap of verdure lying,
Drop from thy myriad eyes of pity down
Some tears of comfort; hear me wildly crying --
Let thy sweet song my fretful murmurs drown.
Mother, thy son who left thine arms at morning
Radiant with hope, high courage, and with trust,
Night, from her sable windows, sees returning
Trailing his broken banners in the dust.

Mother of ages; mother, foe, and lover,
Stretch out thine arms and circle me about;
Open thy heart, thy heart enraptured, cover
Me in its core, nor ever let me out.
Oh, the fierce gladness of thy touch magnetic,
Oh, the cool life that soothes the fire of mine,
Oh, the rich breath inspiring song prophetic,
Oh, the full silence, joy's electric wine.

Fill me with light from out thy heart's recesses,
Pour through my being all thy flood of fire;
Oh, how I faint beneath thy wild caresses --
Nature grown feeble with too vast desire!
Into the deepest, stillest of thy water
Deep let me dive, oh, far and still and deep,
Far from the sounds of toil and rage and slaughter,
There for a calm infinitude to sleep!



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