There was one who called her wife; One, who called her mother. Each laid hands upon her life And pulled against the other. Neither one would ease the strain Lest he should lose his part. Hands that loved her, rent in twain The fabric of her heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I AM BORNE ONWARD by SARA TEASDALE WHEN JOHNNY COMES MARCHING HOME by PATRICK SARSFIELD GILMORE ON THE DEATH OF SIR THOMAS WYATT by HENRY HOWARD LINES WRITTEN IN AN OVID by MATTHEW PRIOR THE COWBOY'S DANCE SONG by JAMES BARTON ADAMS SKYFARER by ANNA EMILIA BAGSTAD THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 41. FAREWELL TO JULIET (3) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT DEDICATIONS AND INSCRIPTIONS: 11. TO EDWARD THOMAS, WITH A PLAY by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |