The courage that my mother had
Went with her, and is with her still:
Rock from New England quarried;
Now granite in a granite hill.
The golden brooch my mother wore
She left behind for me to wear;
I have no thing I treasure more:
Yet, it is something I could spare.
Oh, if instead she'd left to me
The thing she took into the grave!-
That courage like a rock, which she
Has no more need of, and I have.
-- Edna St. Vincent Millay
More Poetry Friday at Check It Out.
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ReplyDeleteburun estetigi
Oh lovely. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poem. Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteThat is wonderful. I am missing some people of my parents' generation at this season of my life, and wishing I had spent more time with them soaking up their true humanity. I didn't get enough.
ReplyDeleteThis is a beautiful poem. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteSun shines over river
ReplyDeleteWhere fish swim for food
So they can live.
- Andrew
a 4th grader poet published at link you provided
Happy Friday of Easter
(at this morning's mass, John's fish fry Gospel, chuckle, all is gift!)