My Mother


Reg wished me to go with him to the field,
I paused because I did not want to go;
But in her quiet way she made me yield
Reluctantly, for she was breathing low.
Her hand she slowly lifted from her lap
And, smiling sadly in the old sweet way,
She pointed to the nail where hung my cap.
Her eyes said: I shall last another day.
But scarcely had we reached the distant place,
When o'er the hills we heard a faint bell ringing;
A boy came running up with frightened face;
We knew the fatal news that he was bringing.
I heard him listlessly, without a moan,
Although the only one I loved was gone.


The dawn departs, the morning is begun,
The trades come whispering from off the seas,
The fields of corn are golden in the sun,
The dark-brown tassels fluttering in the breeze;
The bell is sounding and the children pass,
Frog-leaping, skipping, shouting, laughing shrill,
Down the red road, over the pasture-grass,
Up to the school-house crumbling on the hill.
The older folk are at their peaceful toil,
Some pulling up the weeds, some plucking corn,
And others breaking up the sun-baked soil.
Float, faintly-scented breeze, at early morn
Over the earth where mortals sow and reap--
Beneath its breast my mother lies asleep.

by Claude McKay

Comments (6)

The scene before and after the death of his mother has been captured by the poet with complete solemnity, reverence and gratitude. Thank you, Dear Poet.
Beneath ist breast my mother lies asleep! Nice piece of work.
A soul searching experience to the readers about motherhood.
What a touching way to say, one's mother is gone and she is embraced by nature very fondly lovingly. Exquisitely worded poem. Simply fantastic. x
'Although the only one I loved was gone...' You said in Your poem And this is always True Oh, Claude You lost Your mother Your Only Beloved She was Unreplaceable You Poems are as well...
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