The Mother Poem by Patrick Henry Pearse
The Mother
I do not grudge them: Lord, I do not grudge
My two strong sons that I have seen go out
To break their strength and die, they and a few,
In bloody protest for a glorious thing,
They shall be spoken of among their people,
The generations shall remember them,
And call them blessed;
But I will speak their names to my own heart
In the long nights;
The little names that were familiar once
Round my dead hearth.
Lord, thou art hard on mothers:
We suffer in their coming and their going;
And tho' I grudge them not, I weary, weary
Of the long sorrow-And yet I have my joy:
My sons were faithful, and they fought.
I learned this is School, I come from they City where the two Pearce brother were born and were Executed, Mrs Kennedy kept a copy of this with her always, to Honour HER son's J, F and Robert
My heart aches when I read this poignant poem.It bodes well to remember with pride, the sacrifice others have made so we could have freedom
My heart aches when I read this poignant poem, so beautifully and sensitively written, to try and, give some comfort to his mother, after her boys death, which, he had obviously anticipated.
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4/21/2024 5:52:01 PM # 1.0.0.1119
So sad, so moving, powerful poem.