Classic and Contemporary Poetry
HERITAGE, by LAURA HELENA BROWER First Line: I see the gallows - o my son! My child! Last Line: Not guilty, but the blighted fruit of war! Subject(s): Birth; Conception; Death; Guilt; Mothers & Sons; Soldiers; Sons; Child Birth; Midwifery; Dead, The | ||||||||
I see the gallowsO my son! My child! That has been built for you. Not with these eyes, These wretched, human eyes, so dimmed and worn With tears unceasing since I learned your fate, Your crime, your guilt, your plea, your punishment; But with the clear, sad vision of a soul Remorse-wrung for the sin that mothered yours. O God! If they could know, could understand, Those twelve men stern and silent, who condemned, The judge whose icy voice pronounced your doom, The careless, jeering crowd that thronged the court, O God! If they could know that mine, mine, mine, The mother's sin, sinned ere your birth, has brought You, it and it alone, to this dread place, The gallows' foot! For you were bornnay, more, Conceived when all the world was torn with war And mad with hate that slaked its blood-thirst In a brother's blood. And you were fatherless From birth. The kind, wise voice, the strong firm hand. The father's hand that would have led you up, Far from the road on which your feet have strayed, That voice was stilled, that hand lay cold in death. Too well the deadly shrapnel's work was done. And, helpless child, what could you do but drink The poison of the hate that orphaned you, And the worse poison of the hate within my breast Alike for those whose work this was, and those Who, weeping, came to tell me he was dead. Ours, then, the guilt,not yours, but his and mine That we had bidden you, you sinless child, To come to birth in such unhallow'd hour. How dared we love when all around was envy, greed For power that mocked the rights of weaker men, And bitter loathing finding vent in war? How dared we love when love's sweet fruit must be Heart-cankered? You guilty? No! No more than when They laid you first upon my widowed breast, And heard, unheeding, all the curses wild I heaped on those who made you fatherless. Not guilty, judge and jury, though condemned, Not guilty, but the blighted fruit of war! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FRIEND KILLED IN THE WAR by ANTHONY HECHT FOR JAMES MERRILL: AN ADIEU by ANTHONY HECHT TARANTULA: OR THE DANCE OF DEATH by ANTHONY HECHT CHAMPS D?ÇÖHONNEUR by ERNEST HEMINGWAY NOTE TO REALITY by TONY HOAGLAND ELEGY: THE GHOST WHOSE LIPS WERE WARM; FOR GEOFFREY GORER by EDITH SITWELL THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW |
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