The Factories
Margaret Widdemer 1884 (Doylestown) – 1978
I have shut my little sister in from life and light
(For a rose, for a ribbon, for a wreath across my hair),
I have made her restless feet still until the night,
Locked from sweets of summer and from wild spring air;
I who ranged the meadow lands, free from sun to sun,
Free to sing and pull the buds and watch the far wings fly,
I have bound my sister till her playing-time is done -
Oh, my little sister, was it I? - was it I?
I have robbed my sister of her day of maidenhood
(For a robe, for a feather, for a trinket's restless spark),
Shut from Love till dusk shall fall, how shall she know good,
How shall she pass scatheless through the sinlit dark?
I who could be innocent, I who could be gay,
I who could have love and mirth before the light went by,
I have put my sister in her mating-time away -
Sister, my young sister, - was it I? - was it I?
I have robbed my sister of the lips against her breast
(For a coin, for the weaving of my children's lace and lawn),
Feet that pace beside the loom, hands that cannot rest,
How can she know motherhood, whose strength is gone?
I who took no heed of her, starved and labor-worn,
I against whose placid heart my sleepy gold heads lie,
Round my path they cry to me, little souls unborn,
God of Life - Creator! It was I! It was I!
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 28, 2023
- 1:18 min read
- 50 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | ABABCDCDAEFEGDGDHIHIJDJD |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic hexameter |
Characters | 1,288 |
Words | 260 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 24 |
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"The Factories" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 20 Sep. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/43276/the-factories>.
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