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Poem by Francis Ledwidge


My Mother


God made my mother on an April day,
From sorrow and the mist along the sea,
Lost birds' and wanderers' songs and ocean spray,
And the moon loved her wandering jealously.

Beside the ocean's din she combed her hair,
Singing the nocturne of the passing ships,
Before her earthly lover found her there
And kissed away the music from her lips.

She came unto the hills and saw the change
That brings the swallow and the geese in turns.
But there was not a grief she deeméd strange,
For there is that in her which always mourns.

Kind heart she has for all on hill or wave
Whose hopes grew wings like ants to fly away.
I bless the God Who such a mother gave
This poor bird-hearted singer of a day. 



Francis Ledwidge


Francis Ledwidge's other poems:
  1. At Currabwee
  2. Old Clo
  3. Spring and Autumn
  4. Thoughts at the Trysting Stile
  5. The Little Children


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Claude McKay My Mother ("Reg wished me to go with him to the field")

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