How strangely lone unto myself I grow, <br />Listening and looking for I know not what; <br />Turning my head with terror cold and hot <br />At wandering whispers of a music low! <br />Familiar pieces of my being flow <br />Far, far away, to thymy hill and plot, <br />While chained to patience in this close-shut spot <br />I sit apart from everything I know. <br /> <br />O Love, I fear the loneness of my limbs <br />Leaning to nothing to their solitude. <br />Draw up the blinds and let the stars rush in, <br />The mournful moon and all the air she swims. <br />I would not languish in my mother-mood <br />While just without earth makes her old, mad din.<br /><br />Zora Bernice May Cross<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-of-motherhood-xxix/
