Page:Poems, in two volumes (IA poemsintwovolume01word).pdf/31

This page has been validated.

THE SAILOR's MOTHER.

One morning (raw it was and wet,A foggy day in winter time)A Woman in the road I met,Not old, though something past her prime:Majestic in her person, tall and straight;And like a Roman matron's was her mien and gait.
The ancient Spirit is not dead;Old times, thought I, are breathing there;Proud was I that my country bredSuch strength, a dignity so fair:She begg'd an alms, like one in poor estate;I look'd at her again, nor did my pride abate.
This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.