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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=343774" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Forsaken</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Holy Mother of God, Merciful Mary. Hear me! I am very weary. I have come<br>from a village miles away, all day I have been coming, and I ache for such<br>far roaming. I cannot walk as light as I used, and my thoughts grow confused.<br>I am heavier than I was. Mary Mother, you know the cause!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Beautiful Holy Lady, take my shame away from me! Let this fear<br>be only seeming, let it be that I am dreaming. For months I have hoped<br>it was so, now I am afraid I know. Lady, why should this be shame,<br>just because I haven't got his name. He loved me, yes, Lady, he did,<br>and he couldn't keep it hid. We meant to marry. Why did he die?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>That day when they told me he had gone down in the avalanche, and could not<br>be found until the snow melted in Spring, I did nothing. I could not cry.<br>Why should he die? Why should he die and his child live? His little child<br>alive in me, for my comfort. No, Good God, for my misery! I cannot face<br>the shame, to be a mother, and not married, and the poor child to be reviled<br>for having no father. Merciful Mother, Holy Virgin, take away this sin I did.<br>Let the baby not be. Only take the stigma off of me!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I have told no one but you, Holy Mary. My mother would call me 'whore',<br>and spit upon me; the priest would have me repent, and have<br>the rest of my life spent in a convent. I am no whore, no bad woman,<br>he loved me, and we were to be married. I carried him always in my heart,<br>what did it matter if I gave him the least part of me too? You were a virgin,<br>Holy Mother, but you had a son, you know there are times when a woman<br>must give all. There is some call to give and hold back nothing.<br>I swear I obeyed God then, and this child who lives in me is the sign.<br>What am I saying? He is dead, my beautiful, strong man! I shall never<br>feel him caress me again. This is the only baby I shall have.<br>Oh, Holy Virgin, protect my baby! My little, helpless baby!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>He will look like his father, and he will be as fast a runner and as good<br>a shot. Not that he shall be no scholar neither. He shall go to school<br>in winter, and learn to read and write, and my father will teach him to carve,<br>so that he can make the little horses, and cows, and chamois,<br>out of white wood. Oh, No! No! No! How can I think such things,<br>I am not good. My father will have nothing to do with my boy,<br>I shall be an outcast thing. Oh, Mother of our Lord God, be merciful,<br>take away my shame! Let my body be as it was before he came.<br>No little baby for me to keep underneath my heart for those long months.<br>To live for and to get comfort from. I cannot go home and tell my mother.<br>She is so hard and righteous. She never loved my father, and we were born<br>for duty, not for love. I cannot face it. Holy Mother, take my baby away!<br>Take away my little baby! I don't want it, I can't bear it!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And I shall have nothing, nothing! Just be known as a good girl.<br>Have other men want to marry me, whom I could not touch, after having known<br>my man. Known the length and breadth of his beautiful white body,<br>and the depth of his love, on the high Summer Alp, with the moon above,<br>and the pine-needles all shiny in the light of it. He is gone, my man,<br>I shall never hear him or feel him again, but I could not touch another.<br>I would rather lie under the snow with my own man in my arms!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>So I shall live on and on. Just a good woman. With nothing to warm my heart<br>where he lay, and where he left his baby for me to care for. I shall not be<br>quite human, I think. Merely a stone-dead creature. They will respect me.<br>What do I care for respect! You didn't care for people's tongues<br>when you were carrying our Lord Jesus. God had my man give me my baby,<br>when He knew that He was going to take him away. His lips will comfort me,<br>his hands will soothe me. All day I will work at my lace-making,<br>and all night I will keep him warm by my side and pray the blessed Angels<br>to cover him with their wings. Dear Mother, what is it that sings?<br>I hear voices singing, and lovely silver trumpets through it all. They seem<br>just on the other side of the wall. Let me keep my baby, Holy Mother.<br>He is only a poor lace-maker's baby, with a stain upon him,<br>but give me strength to bring him up to be a man.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Amy+Lowell">Amy Lowell</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=343774" data-title="The Forsaken de Amy Lowell" data-description="Holy Mother of God, Merciful Mary. Hear me! I am very weary. I have come
from a village miles away, all day I have been coming, and I ache for such
far roaming. I cannot walk as light as I used, and my thoughts grow confused.
I am heavier than I w..."></div>
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