A Ballad.
Edward Woodley Bowling 1837 (Nice,) – 1907 (Ealing, London, )
I.
I cannot rest o' the night, Mother,
For my heart is cold and wan:
I fear the return o' light, Mother,
Since my own true love is gone.
O winsome aye was his face, Mother,
And tender his bright blue eye;
But his beauty and manly grace, Mother,
Beneath the dark earth do lie.
II.
They tell me that I am young, Mother,
That joy will return once more;
But sorrow my heart has wrung, Mother,
And I feel the wound full sore.
The tree at the root frost-bitten
Will flourish never again,
And the woe that my life hath smitten
Hath frozen each inmost vein.
III.
Whene'er the moon's shining clear, Mother,
I think o' my lover that's gone;
Heaven seem'd to draw very near, Mother,
As above us in glory it shone.
Ah! whither hath fled all my gladness?
Ah! would from life I could fly!
That laying me down in my sadness
I might kiss thee, my Mother, and die!
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Submitted on August 03, 2020
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 52 sec read
- 7 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | AXABACAC ADADEXEX ABAXFCFC |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 844 |
Words | 171 |
Stanzas | 3 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 8, 8 |
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"A Ballad." Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 11 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/55067/a-ballad.>.
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