Hagar to Sarah

Lover of children! Not for thee the laughter
—That of the worn heart makes a child again
Never for thee—not now—and not hereafter
That bliss, that pain.

A child within thee weeps to call thee Mother,
—When in the darkness Life and Death draw nigh,
And there is born another to another,
I hear it cry.
Translation: 
Language: 
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.