LINGER no more, my beloved, by abbey and cell and cathedral; Mourn not for holy ones mourning of old them who knew not the Father, Weeping with fast and scourge, when the bridegroom was taken from them. Drop back awhile through the years, to the warm rich youth of the nations, Child-like in virtue and faith, though child-like in passion and pleasure; Child-like still, and still near to their God, while the day-spring of Eden Lingered in rose-red rays on the peaks of Ionian Mountains. Down to the Mothers, as Faust went, I go, to the roots of our Manhood, Mothers of us in our cradles; of us once more in our glory, New-born body and soul, in the great pure world which shall be, In the renewing of all things, when man shall return to his Eden Conquering evil, and death, and shame, and the slander of conscience -- Free in the sunshine of Godhead -- and fearlessly smile on his Father. Down to the mothers I go -- yet with thee still! -- be with me, thou purest! Lead me, thy hand in my hand; and the day-spring of God go before us. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HIGHWAY DEATH TOLL by KAREN SWENSON BRUCE AND THE SPIDER by BERNARD BARTON THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE STUDY OF A SPIDER by JOHN BYRNE LEICESTER WARREN PIONEERS! O PIONEERS! by WALT WHITMAN THE RUINS OF CORINTH by ANTIPATER OF SIDON |