Elizabeth Barrett Browning - "Mother and Poet"

Well. This poem made me cry. However, I'm not sure how much of my initial reaction can be attributed to my reading the poem after midnight. I was once told that how you behave when you've been awake for a long time is akin to how you behave drunk. If this is true, then a drunk me would be very emotional.

This poem is plenty emotional in its own right. There's not many sadder things than a mother mourning for her child, and this one is mourning for two. I can't know what a mother with two dead sons feels like, because I have no children to lose. Browning's narrator is very adept at expressing her grief, however, so I can make a guess. That she initially supported the war that killed her sons only adds to the drama.

My Favorite Bits

I bore it; friends soothed me; my grief looked sublime
As the ransom of Italy. One boy remained
To be leant on and walked with, recalling the time
When the first grew immortal, while both of us strained
To the height he had gained.

And letters still came; shorter, sadder, more strong,
Writ now but in one hand, "I was not to faint,--
One loved me for two--would be with me ere long:
And Viva L'Italia!--he died for, our saint,
Who forbids our complaint."


On which, without pause, up the telegraph line
Swept smoothly the next news from Gaeta:--Shot.
Tell his mother. Ah, ah, "his," "their" mother, --not "mine,"
No voice says "My mother" again to me. What!
You think Guido forgot?


Both boys dead? but that's out of nature. We all
Have been patriots, yet each house must always keep one.
'Twere imbecile, hewing out roads to a wall;
And, when Italy's made, for what end is it done
If we have not a son?