The courage that my mother had
Went with her, and is with her still:
Rock from New England quarried;
Now granite in a granite hill.
The golden brooch my mother wore
She left behind for me to wear;
I have no thing I treasure more:
Yet, it is something I could spare.
Oh, if instead she'd left to me
The thing she took into the grave!—
That courage like a rock, which she
Has no more need of, and I have.
My mother had this courage; and we are from New England. This is one of my favorite poems.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The golden brooch my mother wore She left behind for me to wear; I have no thing I treasure more: Yet, it is something I could spare. beautiful poem of reminiscences. tony