My Puritan Grandmother!—I see her now, With placid brow, Always so sure That no things but the right things shall endure! Sombrely neat, so orderly and prim, Always a little grim, Austere but kind. ... Smooth-banded hair and smoothly-banded mind. But let me whisper it to you to-day— I know it now— That deep in her there was a flame at play. Beneath that brow The blue-grey eyes sought beauty, found it too Most often by the ocean's passionate blue. Her sea-beach treasures—shells and coloured weed Gathered and hoarded with glad human greed— They warm my heart to-day with insight new. How vividly I see her, frail and old, A tiny, black-clothed figure on the beach, Compactly wrapped against the sea-wind's cold, Patiently waiting till waves let her reach Some sandy strip, where purple, amber, green, Her lacy sea-weed treasures could be seen. (She pressed and mounted them—frail tangled things! Handled by her, fit to trim fairies' wings.) So I recall her, Searching salt-sea pools For Beauty's shadow. All her rigid rules, And cold austereness with a storm-tossed child, Melt into airs of evenings, warm and mild. And I find revelation, sweet indeed, In her dear treasures of sea shells and weed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SONG OF THE SHEPHERDS by EDWIN MARKHAM A BOOK OF AIRS SONG 18 by THOMAS CAMPION SOLOMON AND THE WITCH by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS FOOTLIGHT MOTIFS: 1. MRS. VERNON CASTLE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 42. AL-JAMIL by EDWIN ARNOLD TO ONE WHO DIED LAST YEAR by ANNA EMILIA BAGSTAD |