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Virgin and mother, by pressing your son to your heart you held death close while your mind which believed perceived Him in paradise, as triumphant as each soul He'd brought there. These ugly painful wounds in this humble mild man stirred in you fierce bitter anguish, then this victory for integrity made you see something noble in the mind shown here. And I know you felt in that death God didn't leave you--rather He cured you, gave you back life's original splendor. Still as a mother who gave birth to him, I believe until they buried you, your bereft heart felt nothing any good. |
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Notes: From 1900 Tordi 7: 46; MS L. See comment by Ansermin, 132. A sixteenth and final sonnet in the series to the Virgin. Key |