31-10-04

Home They Brought Her Warrior Dead (Alfred Lord Tennyson)

Another poem that my Dad used to read to me. I realised that he respected women a lot. He believed that women have a lot of strength in themselves and it all came out in cretain times and situations.
 
Home they brought her warrior dead:
She nor swooned, nor uttered cry:
All her maidens, watching, said,
‘She must weep or she will die.’

Then they praised him, soft and low,
Called him worthy to be loved,
Truest friend and noblest foe;
Yet she neither spoke nor moved.

Stole a maiden from her place,
Lightly to the warrior stepped,
Took the face-cloth from the face;
Yet she neither moved nor wept.

Rose a nurse of ninety years,
Set his child upon her knee—
Like summer tempest came her tears—
‘Sweet my child, I live for thee.'

Painting: Madonna and Child by Bernardino Luini


06:56 Gepost door Birdie | Permalink | Commentaren (0) |  Facebook |

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