Mother, Among the Dustbins
Mother, among the dustbins and the manure
I feel the measure of my humanity, an allure
As of the presence of God, I am sure
In the dustbins, in the manure, in the cat at play,
Is the presence of God, in a sure way
He moves there. Mother, what do you say?
I too have felt the presence of God in the broom
I hold, in the cobwebs in the room,
But most of all in the silence of the tomb.
Ah! but that thought that informs the hope of our kind
Is but an empty thing, what lies behind? --
Naught but the vanity of a protesting mind
That would not die. This is the thought that bounces
Within a conceited head and trounces
Inquiry. Man is most frivolous when he pronounces.
Well Mother, I shall continue to think as I do,
And I think you would be wise to do so too,
Can you question the folly of man in the creation of God?
Who are you?
Stevie Smith's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Mother, Among the Dustbins by Stevie Smith )
Poem of the Day
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- A Case Of Murder, Vernon Scannell
- All the World's a Stage, William Shakespeare
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- When Spring Goes By, Duncan Campbell Scott
- (955) Poverty (Acros.., Melvina Germain
- Morning, Paul Laurence Dunbar
- Television, Roald Dahl
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
- Heather Burns
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Alfred Lord Tennyson
(6 August 1809 – 6 October 1892)