MOTHER whose womb brought forth our man of men, Mother of Shakespeare, whom all time acclaims Queen therefore, sovereign queen of English dames, Throned higher than sat thy sonless empress then, Was it thy son's young passion-guided pen Which drew, reflected from encircling flames, A figure marked by the earlier of thy names Wife, and from all her wedded kinswomen Marked by the sign of murderess? Pale and great, Great in her grief and sin, but in her death And anguish of her penitential breath Greater than all her sin or sin-born fate, She stands, the holocaust of dark desire, Clothed round with song forever as with fire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE by JOHN KEATS WITCH-WIFE by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY SONNET: 130 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE WINDOW; OR, THE SONG OF THE WRENS: THE LETTER by ALFRED TENNYSON SPRING SONG by MAVIS CLARE BARNETT FATI VALET HORA BENIGNI by SAMUEL BISHOP BABYLONIAN LYRIC by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |