Mystic Trees by Michael Field [i.e. K. H. Bradley and E. E. Cooper] |
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A MOTHER OF BETHLEHEM
IN JUDA |
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117
A MOTHER OF BETHLEHEM IN JUDA
They are all dead ... I am sitting by a well.
They are all dead! More women are coming up,
Down the hill and up the stony way;
Not one but her hair is grey.
They have murdered our sons because of an ancient song.
Our village street is long,
And the sun lies there,
And the mourners are not there,
And the day is long.
They are all dead! More women are coming up,
Down the hill and up the stony way;
Not one but her hair is grey.
They have murdered our sons because of an ancient song.
Our village street is long,
And the sun lies there,
And the mourners are not there,
And the day is long.
They have murdered our sons up to two years old;
They have murdered our sons for a word fore-told
That a King should spring ...
But every one of our sons was a king!
They are all dead; I am sitting by the well.
They have murdered our sons for a word fore-told
That a King should spring ...
But every one of our sons was a king!
They are all dead; I am sitting by the well.
They rise up each with a pot on her head:
They will not be comforted ...
With water they will not wash their dead;
The milk on their breasts is spread;
They are parched to drink at the well ...
Am I one of them?
I will draw for them,
The Mothers of Bethlehem.
They will not be comforted ...
With water they will not wash their dead;
The milk on their breasts is spread;
They are parched to drink at the well ...
Am I one of them?
I will draw for them,
The Mothers of Bethlehem.
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