Classic and Contemporary Poetry
TO IRIS, by EDITH BLAND NESBIT Poet's Biography First Line: If I might build a palace, fair Last Line: The impotent wings of mother-love. Alternate Author Name(s): Nesbit, E.; Bland, Mrs. Hubert Subject(s): Mothers | ||||||||
IF I might build a palace, fair With every joy of soul and sense, And set my heart as sentry there To guard your happy innocence -- If I might plant a hedge so strong No creeping sorrow could writhe through, And find my whole life not too long To give, to make your hedge for you -- If I could teach the wandering air To bring no sounds that were not sweet, Could teach the earth that only fair Untrodden flower deserved your feet: Would I not tear the secret scroll Where all your griefs lie closely curled, And give your little hand control Of all the joys of all the world? But ah! I have no skill to raise The palace, teach the hedge to grow; The common airs blow through your days, By common ways your dear feet go. And you must twine of common flowers The wreath that happy women wear, And bear in desolate darkened hours The common griefs that all men bear. The pinions of my love I fold Your little shoulders close about: Ah -- could my love keep out the cold And shut the creeping sorrows out! Rough paths will tire your darling feet, Gray skies will weep your tears above, While round you still, in torment, beat The impotent wings of mother-love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY MOTHER'S HANDS by ANDREW HUDGINS CONTINENT'S END by ROBINSON JEFFERS IN THE 25TH YEAR OF MY MOTHER'S DEATH by JUDY JORDAN THE PAIDLIN' WEAN by ALEXANDER ANDERSON BLASTING FROM HEAVEN by PHILIP LEVINE A BALLAD OF CANTERBURY by EDITH BLAND NESBIT |
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