Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, FOOTSTEPS OF PROSERPINE: 2. LITTLE GENTIAN, by NEWMAN HOWARD


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

FOOTSTEPS OF PROSERPINE: 2. LITTLE GENTIAN, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Lean, little mother, o'er my bed
Last Line: This flower shuts too.
Subject(s): God; Kisses; Love; Mothers


"LEAN, little mother, o'er my bed;
And do not let your lashes fall;
I think, when God put in your head
Those shining eyes, he smiled, and said:
'Here's water from the lakes of heaven:
In case my child in pain should call
For some cool drink, let this be given.'
And now I have no joy at all,
Save when the trouble leaves your brow,
Or in blue skies
I see God's eyes:
In other times you taught me how:
So when your eyes no longer shine
Then I close mine.

"Why have you grown so wan? and why,
Though now my pain is less, do you,
When I feign sleeping, often sigh?
I know that fellow spoke a lie.
God does not, as our usher, strike
Poor boys, and help the rich ones through.
Yet when I told that boy I like,
Your eyes were large, and bright, and blue,
One, knowing us, I know not how,
Turned, sneered, and said
'She'll soon be dead.'
That's why I cried all night; and now,
When your eyes shut, and cease to shine,
Then I close mine.

"I wish you had not stitched, and wrought
All night to have me tutored well;
I do not learn the half I ought:
'A mere small fool' I'm named; and thought,
I know not why, beneath the rest.
Your cheeks were far too fair to sell
To have me taught and smartly drest:
But all these things I could not tell:
At nine you're such a child, you see;
It's different when
You're nearly ten;
And you had none but only me.
Yet if your bright eyes will but shine
I'll laugh with mine!

"How pale you are! and chill as snow!
A few more coals were such a prize!
You're thinking of that man, I know,
Who made you wretched years ago --
The man now rich, who took your gold:
You must not, dear; it is not wise:
It always makes you wan and cold.
Mother! . . . I'm frightened! Move your eyes!"
He kissed her lips, and prayed in vain
For one more smile;
Now sobbed awhile;
Till, told dead eyes ope not again,
He stayed to know if that were true,
Then closed his too.

And when they laid them 'neath the sod
The rich folk said, "We know her past:
How sad! Yet here we see His rod."
Then went their several ways, and trod
On other lives. But where they lay,
In nameless graves, amid the vast
Mute hills, whose brows the breaking day
First kisses, lo, a seed was cast,
Whence sprang beneath the darkling firs,
Or haply grew
In sign Love knew,
A flower, stained like his eyes and hers;
And when Love seals Her eyes of blue
This flower shuts too.





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