“Two Songs For The World's End
I
Bombs ripen on the leafless tree
under which the children play.
And there my darling all alone
dances in the spying day.
I gave her nerves to feel her pain,
I put her mortal beauty on.
I taught her love that hate might find,
its black work the easier done.
I sent her out alone to play;
and I must watch, and I must hear,
how underneath the leafless tree,
the children dance and sing with Fear.
II
Lighted by the rage of time
where the blind and dying weep,
in my shadow take your sleep,
though wakeful I.
Sleep unhearing while I pray -
Should the red tent of the sky
fall to fold your time away,
wake to weep before you die.
Die believing all is true
that love your maker said to you
Still believe
that had you lived you would have found
love, world, sight, sound,
sorrow, beauty - all true.
Grieve for death your moment - grieve.
The world, the lover you must take,
is the murderer you will meet.
But if you die before you wake
never think death sweet.”
― Collected poems, 1942-1970
I
Bombs ripen on the leafless tree
under which the children play.
And there my darling all alone
dances in the spying day.
I gave her nerves to feel her pain,
I put her mortal beauty on.
I taught her love that hate might find,
its black work the easier done.
I sent her out alone to play;
and I must watch, and I must hear,
how underneath the leafless tree,
the children dance and sing with Fear.
II
Lighted by the rage of time
where the blind and dying weep,
in my shadow take your sleep,
though wakeful I.
Sleep unhearing while I pray -
Should the red tent of the sky
fall to fold your time away,
wake to weep before you die.
Die believing all is true
that love your maker said to you
Still believe
that had you lived you would have found
love, world, sight, sound,
sorrow, beauty - all true.
Grieve for death your moment - grieve.
The world, the lover you must take,
is the murderer you will meet.
But if you die before you wake
never think death sweet.”
― Collected poems, 1942-1970
“Most of us love a non-self, or something extrinsic and apart from our inner life; but a mother's love during the time she is a flesh-and-blood ciborium is not for a non-self but for one that is her very self, a perfect example of charity and love which hardly perceives a separation. Motherhood then becomes a kind of priesthood. She brings God to man by preparing the flesh in which the soul will be implanted; she brings man to God in offering the child back again to the Creator.”
― Life Is Worth Living
― Life Is Worth Living
“[On visitors after having a new baby...] "Put a lock on the door, barricade it if you have to. No one gets past that front door unless they come bearing one of two things: food or cleaning products!”
― It Gets Easier! And Other Lies We Tell New Mothers
― It Gets Easier! And Other Lies We Tell New Mothers
“I'm blessed and I couldn't be more grateful. Do you want to know why? Because I'm a mother, but that's only half of it. I'm blessed because, when I need to, I can still just be a daughter. I get the feeling that there is nothing more precious than to have both of these roles, simultaneously.”
―
―
“She had watched other women with infants and eventually understood what she craved: the boundless permission-no, the absolute necessity- to hold and kiss and stroke this tiny person. Cradling a swaddled infant in their arms, mothers would distractedly touch their lips to their babies' foreheads. Passing their toddlers in a hall, mothers would tousle their hair even sweep them up in their arms and kiss them hard along their chins and necks until the children squealed with glee. Where else in life, Mabel wondered, could a woman love so openly and with such abandon?”
― The Snow Child
― The Snow Child
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