My Lyrical Life Poems Old and New. By Gerald Massey |
 | 1. |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. | III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
|
|
| 2. |
 | My Lyrical Life |  |
III.
Ay me, dear Sister, gentle Brother,
How soft the thought of a Mother lies
At heart; how sweet in sound 'twill rise;
And these poor Children had no Mother!
How soft the thought of a Mother lies
At heart; how sweet in sound 'twill rise;
And these poor Children had no Mother!
No Mother-arms in secret nook
To fold the sufferer to her breast,
With love that never breaks its rest,
And Heartsease in her very look.
To fold the sufferer to her breast,
With love that never breaks its rest,
And Heartsease in her very look.
No Mother-wings to brood above
The winter nest and keep them warm;
And shield them from the pitiless storm,
With the large shelter of her love.
The winter nest and keep them warm;
And shield them from the pitiless storm,
With the large shelter of her love.
No Mother's tender touch that brings
A music from the harp of life,
Like hovering heaven above the strife
And precious trembling of the strings.
A music from the harp of life,
Like hovering heaven above the strife
And precious trembling of the strings.
206
No Mother with her lap of love
Each night for heads that bow in prayer;
Dear hands that stroke the smiling hair,
And heart that pleads their cause above.
Each night for heads that bow in prayer;
Dear hands that stroke the smiling hair,
And heart that pleads their cause above.
No Mother whose quick, wistful eye
Will see the shadow of Danger near,
And face, with love that casts out fear,
The blow that darkly hurtles by.
Will see the shadow of Danger near,
And face, with love that casts out fear,
The blow that darkly hurtles by.
No Mother's smile ineffable,
To stir the Angel in the bud,
Till, into perfect womanhood,
The Flower blushes at the full.
To stir the Angel in the bud,
Till, into perfect womanhood,
The Flower blushes at the full.
No Mother! when the Darling One
Bends with a grief that breaks the flower,
To loose the sorrow in a shower,
And lift the sweet face to the sun.
Bends with a grief that breaks the flower,
To loose the sorrow in a shower,
And lift the sweet face to the sun.
No Mother's kiss of comfort near
The River that Death overshades;
Or voice that, when the dim face fades,
Sounds on with words of solemn cheer.
The River that Death overshades;
Or voice that, when the dim face fades,
Sounds on with words of solemn cheer.
Ay me, dear Sister, gentle Brother,
How soft the thought of a Mother lies
At heart; how sweet in sound 'twill rise;
And these poor Children had no Mother.
How soft the thought of a Mother lies
At heart; how sweet in sound 'twill rise;
And these poor Children had no Mother.
| My Lyrical Life | |