| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 1398. The Mother’s Song |
| | | By Virginia Woodward Cloud |
| | | | | “Two women shall be grinding at the mill: the one shall be taken and the other left.” |
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| ALL day and all day, as I sit at my measureless turning, | |
| They come and they go,— | |
| The little ones down on the rocks,—and the sunlight is burning | |
| On vineyards below; | |
| All day and all day, as I sit at my stone and am ceaselessly grinding, | 5 |
| The almond boughs blow. | |
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| When she was here—O my first-born!—here, grinding and singing, | |
| My hand against hers, | |
| What did I reck of the wind where the aloe is swinging, | |
| And the cypress vine stirs? | 10 |
| What of a bird to its little ones hastening, flying and crying, | |
| Through the dark of the firs? | |
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| When she was here—O my beautiful—here by me grinding, | |
| I saw not the glow | |
| Of the grape; for the bloom of her face that the sunlight was finding, | 15 |
| And the pomegranate blow | |
| Of her mouth, and the joy of her eyes, and her voice like a dove to me singing, | |
| Made my garden agrow. | |
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| Was it I? Was it I for whom Death came seeking and calling | |
| When he found her so fair? | 20 |
| At the wheel, at the wheel, from dawn till the dew shall be falling, | |
| I will wait for him there. | |
| Death! (I shall cry) I am old, but yon shadow of plums that are purpling | |
| Was the hue of her hair. | |
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| Death! (I shall cry) in the sound of the mill ever turning | 25 |
| Till dark brings release, | |
| Till the sun on the vineyards below me to crimson is burning, | |
| There is measure of peace; | |
| For all day and all day—with the wheel—are her eyes to mine turning: | |
| But, Death! (I shall call) take me hence ere the daylight its shadow is spurning! | 30 |
| Hence, ere the night-time can wrap me around with my tears and my yearning,— | |
| When the grinding shall cease! | |
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