O'ER sleepy fields a vulture broods, In circle upon circle sweeping, Watching the meadow solitudes. A mother in her hut is weeping: "Take bread, my son, take breast, and grow; Obey, take up thy cross, and go." Centuries pass. Loud blares the war, Rebellion rising, hamlets burning, -- But thou, my country, as before, Thy age-old beauty red with mourning! For how long must the mother weep? For how long must the vulture sweep? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE STRAPLESS by KAREN SWENSON GUILIELMUS REX by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH GARDEN FANCIES: 2. SIBRANDUS SCHAFNABURGENSIS by ROBERT BROWNING LIMBO by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE LOVE OF CHRIST WHICH PASSETH KNOWLEDGE by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |