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Botticelli's Madonna In The Louvre

Rating: 2.7

WHAT strange presentiment, O Mother, lies
On thy waste brow and sadly-folded lips,
Forefeeling the Light's terrible eclipse
On Calvary, as if love made thee wise,
And thou couldst read in those dear infant eyes
The sorrow that beneath their smiling sleeps,
And guess what bitter tears a mother weeps
When the cross darkens her unclouded skies?

Sad Lady, if some mother, passing thee,
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
John Richter 23 February 2015

beautiful poem, beautiful message of love and hope that only a mother can truly generate. A voiceless, indescribable strength presented so elegantly. I enjoy the pure emotion behind this piece.

1 0 Reply
Kim Barney 23 February 2015

I think this is a great poem of hope, and deserves much better than the 5.3 user rating given by the 34 voters so far!

2 0 Reply

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