Mother and Poet
I.
Dead ! One of them shot by the sea in the east,
And one of them shot in the west by the sea.
Dead ! both my boys ! When you sit at the feast
And are wanting a great song for Italy free,
Let none look at me !
II.
Yet I oetess only last year,
And good at my art, for a woman, men said ;
But this woman, this, who is agonized here,
-- The east sea a sea rhyme on in her head
For ever instead.
III.
What art a woman be good at ? Oh, vain !
What art is she good at, but hurting her breast
With the milk-teeth of babes, and a smile at the pain ?
Ah boys, how you hurt ! you were strong as you pressed,
And I proud, by that test.
IV.
What arts for a woman ? To hold on her knees
Both darlings ! to feel all their arms rouhroat,
g, strangle a little ! to sew by degrees
And broider the long-clothes a little coat ;
To dream and to doat.
V.
To teach them ... It stings there ! I made them indeed
Speak plain the word try. I taught them, no doubt,
That a tr……（内容加载失败！）
(ò﹏ò)
抱歉，章节内容不支持该浏览器显示～
【为了使用完整的阅读功能】
请考虑使用〔Chrome 谷歌浏览器〕、〔Safari 苹果浏览器〕或者〔Edge 微软浏览器〕等原生浏览器阅读！
谢谢!!!