Analysis of The Mother's Soul
When the moon was horned the mother died,
And the child pulled at her hand and knee,
And he rubbed her cheek and loudly cried:
'O mother, arise, give bread to me!'
But the pine tree bent its head,
And the wind at the door-post said:
'O child, thy mother is dead !'
The sun set his loom to weave the day;
The frost bit sharp like a silent cur;
The child by her pillow paused in his play:
'Mother, build up the sweet fire of fir !'
But the fir tree shook its cones,
And loud cried the pitiful stones:
'Wolf Death has thy mother's bones!'
They bore the mother out on her bier;
Their tears made warm her breast and shroud;
The smiling child at her head stood near;
And the long, white tapers shook and bowed,
And said with their tongues of gold,
To the ice lumps of the grave mold:
'How heavy are ye and cold!'
They buried the mother; to the feast
They flocked with the beaks of unclean crows.
The wind came up from the red-eyed east
And bore in its arms the chill, soft snows.
They said to each other: 'Sere
Are the hearts the mother held dear;
Forgotten, her babe plays here!'
The child with the tender snowflakes played,
And the wind on its fingers twined his hair;
And still by the tall, brown grave he stayed,
Alone in the churchyard lean and bare.
The sods on the high grave cried
To the mother's white breast inside:
'Lie still; in thy deep rest bide!'
Her breast lay still like a long-chilled stone,
Her soul was out on the bleak, grey day;
She saw her child by the grave alone,
With the sods and snow and wind at play.
Said the sharp lips of the rush,
'Red as thy roses,O bush,
With anger the dead can blush !'
A butterfly to the child's breast flew,*
Fluttered its wings on his sweet, round cheek,
Danced by his fingers, small, cold and blue.
The sun strode down past the mountain peak.
The butterfly whispered low
To the child: 'Babe, follow me; know,
Cold is the earth here below.'
The butterfly flew; followed the child,
Lured by the snowy torch of its wings;
The wind sighed after them soft and wild
Till the stars wedded night with golden rings
Till the frost upreared its head,
And the ground to it groaned and said:
'The feet of the child are lead!'
The child's head drooped to the brown, sere mold,
On the crackling cones his white breast lay;
The butterfly touched the locks of gold,
The soul of the child sprang from its clay.
The moon to the pine tree stole,
And silver-lipped, said to its bole:
'How strong is the mother's soul !'
The wings of the butterfly grew out
To the mother's arms, long, soft and white;
She folded them warm her babe about,
She kissed his lips into berries bright,
She warmed his soul on her breast;
And the east called out to the west:
'Now the mother's soul will rest!'
Under the roof where the burial feast
Was heavy with meat and red with wine,
Each crossed himself as out of the east
A strange wind swept over oak and pine.
The trees to the home-roof said:
' 'Tis but the airy rush and tread
Of angels greeting thy dead.'
Scheme | ABABCCCDEDEFFF GHIHJJJ KLKLIIG MNMNAAA ODODPXP QRQRSSS TUTUCCC JDJDVVV WXWXYYY KZKZCCC |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 101110101 001110101 011010101 110011111 1011111 00110111 1111011 011111101 011110101 0110101011 1011011011 1011111 01101001 1111101 110101101 11110101 010110111 001110101 0111111 10111011 1101101 110010101 111011011 011110111 010110111 1111101 10101011 0100111 01101011 0011110111 011011111 01001101 0110111 10101101 1101111 011110111 011110111 110110101 101010111 1011101 11111 1100111 01010111 101111111 111101101 011110101 010101 10111011 1101101 01011001 110101111 011101101 1011011101 101111 00111101 0110111 011110111 101011111 01010111 011011111 0110111 01011111 1110101 01101011 101011101 110110101 111101101 1111101 00111101 1010111 1001101001 110110111 110111101 011110101 0110111 11010101 1101011 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 3,106 |
Words | 580 |
Sentences | 22 |
Stanzas | 10 |
Stanza Lengths | 14, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7 |
Lines Amount | 77 |
Letters per line (avg) | 30 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 227 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 57 |
Font size:
Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 14, 2023
- 2:52 min read
- 70 Views
Citation
Use the citation below to add this poem analysis to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"The Mother's Soul" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/19938/the-mother%27s-soul>.
Discuss this Isabella Valancy Crawford poem analysis with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In