Page:The Complete Poems of Francis Ledwidge, 1919.djvu/205

 MY MOTHER

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.

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