Tuesday, November 4, 2014


Art by
Jody Noëlle Coughlin

Poetry by
Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Aurora Leigh

 "O my father's hand,
   Stroke the poor hair down, stroke it heavily,–
   Draw, press the child's head closer to thy knee!
   I'm still too young, too young to sit alone...

 ... If her kiss 
 Had left a longer weight upon my lips
 It might have steadied the uneasy breath,
 And reconciled and fraternized my soul     
 With new order. As it was, indeed, 
 I felt a mother-want about the world,
 And still went seeking, like a bleating lamb
 Left out at night in shutting up the fold, ––  
 As restless as a nest-deserted bird
 Grown chill through something being away, though what
 It knows not." 


No comments:

Post a Comment