The Mother’s Tragedy

|e) THE MOTHER’S TRAGEDY Naked as dawn, the purpose of the hour Grows on my vision, and my cynic laughter Chills in my veins: the old avenging power Shows me the thing that is to be hereafter. I gloated on the coming of the curse— I did create a hearse, Black plumes and solemn mourners; and saw The triumph of some natural law Fit for a poet’s verse. I saw some common fate to lure, to tempt; (No mortal of the ages is exempt) Some notable disaster to the house Wherein such piety and love abide; I saw some hateful spouse Carry away the bride. That feeble prescience of events to come, That stultified imagining, hath lied; And I can see, though all the signs be dumb And auguries unfruitful—I can see, Now, some intolerable tragedy Fit for a god to picture, not a man! I see the breaking of the rosary, And Fate’s cold fingers snap the span Of three most innocent and pleasant lives. So terrible a happening dives Swift from God’s hand to the abyss of hell, And in its torment thrives, Gathering curses from the darkest cave, Calling corruption from the grave