I HAVE been wont to bear my head right high, My temper too is somewhat stern and rough; Even before a monarch's cold rebuff I would not timidly avert mine eye. Yet, mother dear, I'll tell it openly: Much as my haughty pride may swell and puff, I feel submissive and subdued enough, When thy much-cherished, darling form is nigh. Is it thy spirit that subdues me then, Thy spirit, grasping all things in its ken, And soaring to the light of heaven again? By the sad recollection I'm oppress'd That I have done so much that grieved thy breast, Which loved me, more than all things else, the best. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: IMANUEL EHRENHARDT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ON THE EMIGRATION TO AMERICA AND PEOPLING WESTERN COUNTRY by PHILIP FRENEAU WHAT THE BULLET SANG by FRANCIS BRET HARTE THE PROSPECTOR by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE A CHRISTMAS HYMN by CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER A SONNET TO HEAVENLY BEAUTY by JOACHIM DU BELLAY |