I HAVE been wont to bear my head right high, My temper too is somewhat stern and rough; Even before a monarch's cold rebuff I would not timidly avert mine eye. Yet, mother dear, I'll tell it openly: Much as my haughty pride may swell and puff, I feel submissive and subdued enough, When thy much-cherished, darling form is nigh. Is it thy spirit that subdues me then, Thy spirit, grasping all things in its ken, And soaring to the light of heaven again? By the sad recollection I'm oppress'd That I have done so much that grieved thy breast, Which loved me, more than all things else, the best. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TRAVELLER AT THE SOURCE OF THE NILE by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS SMALL BEGINNINGS by CHARLES MACKAY SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ELSA WERTMAN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS MARSYAS by CHARLES GEORGE DOUGLAS ROBERTS THE SEARCH FOR LEAVEN by ALTER ABELSON THE CLUE by CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES BLANK MISGIVINGS OF A CREATURE MOVING ABOUT IN WORLDS NOT REALIZED: 5 by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH |