Unto the deep the deep heart goes,
It lays its sadness nigh the breast:
Only the Mighty Mother knows
The wounds that quiver unconfessed.
- It seeks a deeper silence still;
- It folds itself around with peace,
- Where thoughts alike of good or ill
- In quietness unfostered cease.
For comfort for its hopes and fears:
The Mighty Mother bows at last;
She listens to her children's tears.
The fire of beauty smites through pain:
A glory moves amid despair,
The Mother takes her child again.
~ A. E. (George William Russell) with thanks to
poetry chaikhana
http://beautywelove.blogspot.com/search/label/A.%20E.%20%28George%20William%20Russell%29
THE MIGHTY MOTHER
Unto the deep the deep heart goes,
It lays its sadness nigh the breast:
Only the Mighty Mother knows
The wounds that quiver unconfessed.
- It seeks a deeper silence still;
- It folds itself around with peace,
- Where thoughts alike of good or ill
- In quietness unfostered cease.
It feels in the unwounding vast
For comfort for its hopes and fears:
The Mighty Mother bows at last;
She listens to her children's tears.
Where the last anguish deepens -- there
The fire of beauty smites through pain:
A glory moves amid despair,
The Mother takes her child again.
~ A. E. (George William Russell) with thanks to
poetry chaikhana
http://beautywelove.blogspot.com/search/label/A.%20E.%20%28George%20William%20Russell%29