from Songs of an Empty House
By Marguerite Wilkinson
My father got me strong and straight and slim,
And I give thanks to him;
My mother bore me glad and sound and sweet, --
I kiss her feet.
I have no son, whose life of flesh and fire
Sprang from my splendid sire,
No daughter for whose soul my mother's flesh
Wrought raiment1 fresh.
Life's venerable2 rhythms like a flood
Beat in my brain and blood,
Crying from all the generations past,
"Is this the last?"
And I make answer to my haughty3 dead,
Who made me, heart and head,
"Even the sunbeams falter, flicker and bend --
I am the end."
1. raiment: clothing or material
2. venerable: commanding respect because of age, character, or position.3. haughty: expressing an attitude of superiority.
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