Mother - Poem by Sophia White
Amidst the roses and the lilies, a lily herself,
And about her, the petaled ladies-in-waiting,
Whom she has sown and nurtured, only using
The petals follow her as a train, she wears a gown
Sewn by the spider-weavers, under the moon
And she steps to a wild highland tune
So fair stands this mortal Venus, amid her trellises
The blossoms bow to her passing, the grass trembles
Beneath her tread. At her voice, the mountains rumble
Gentle, like a dove, and carrying the command of kings.
Her eyes sing the song of the whippoorwhill, and she smiles,
Unperturbéd by the serpent’s wooing winks and guiles
An Eve, a Psyche, as fair within as without,
She walks in beauty, the untrodden ways, lovely is she.
If any mortal should miss her beauty, he must be
And when shall her glory fade? Ne’er, I tell thee true
‘So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life
Comments about Mother by Sophia White
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.