'Tis men who say that through all hurt and pain
The woman's love, wife's, mother's, still will hold,
And breathes the sweeter and will more unfold
For winds that tear it, and the sorrowful rain.
So in a thousand voices has the strain
Of this dear patient madness been retold,
That men call woman's love. Ah! they are bold,
Naming for love that grief which does remain.
Love faints that looks on baseness face to face:
Love pardons all; but by the pardonings dies,
With a fresh wound of each pierced through the breast.
And there stand pityingly in Love's void place
Kindness of household wont familiar-wise,
And faith to Love--faith to our dead at rest.
Love's Mourner
Augusta Davies Webster
(1)
Poem topics: grief, mother, pain, rain, wife, fresh, dear, kindness, wise, bold, place, tear, remain, stand, hold, void, faith, woman, face, love, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about Love's Mourner poem by Augusta Davies Webster
Best Poems of Augusta Davies Webster