Wilmington journal. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1844-1895, 1863-06-25
Mother and FOet.
iTrwin-After NtloS from Gaetta, 1851
By MRS. ELIZABETH BARRETT BRoTEIEG.

iTrTin-After Ne,os from GGetta, 1851
By MRS. ELIZABETH BARREL BRowEIsd
mr. EDITOR Please publish this poem, and grAt NAM
women in whose hearts it will find mournful echo Mr.
Browning OF Italians lighting for their independence
thousands Of brave Southernsrs fight for the
day. God speed them. = C.B
'Deadn Ore &C them lot by the in the East
AID of them shot in the West by the sea,
Dead both my boys! When you sit at the eas.
Aad wanting great song for Italy tree,
Let none look at me
Yet | was poetess Only last year,
And good at my art for a woman, men said
But this, woman, this, who is agoni2ed here.
The East sea and West sea rhyme on in be: head.
Let none look at ME
What art can a woman be good at? Oh, vain,
y bat art is she good at but hurting her breast
With the milk teeth of babes and smile at the pain
All, bo!s, how you hurt you strong yOl pressc
And proud by that test
What arts for p woman To hold on her knees
Both dArlings To feel all their round her throat
Cting-Struggie a little to sew by degrees
And bro der the lorg cloths and neat little coat,
10 dream and to dote!
To teach them. Ii stiags them. indeed
Speak paia The word country; taught them no dvoo'
That country' thing men should die for 81 need,
pratcd of liberty, rghts, and abou!
The tyrant turned out!
And ,cLen their eyes nashed-oh, beautiful eyes
| exuted Nay, let them go forth at the wheels
Of the guns and denied But then the s1rprise
w
knees--
Coz how the house iecls
At first happy ne IS came-in gay letters mailed
With my Kisses. of camp life, aud glory, and how
They both loved me, and soon, coming hopc to Dc so
Ia return would fan of every Fly from my hGbw
With their green laurel bow
Then was triumph at Turin-'Ancona was free
Aud some came out Of the cheers in the street,
With face pale "a stone to say omothnz to me.
My Guido was dead fell down at his feet
While they ChceFed IN the street
l bore it friends soothed me-ny grief looked sub!m
AS the ransom of Italy. One boy remained
To be leant on and walked with, recalling the time
When the first grew immortal while bolh of us str
To the height he had gained
And letters still came-ahortar, saddcr more strong
Writ but III hand was not to ian.
She loved me TOR tWo--would be with me ere long
And Viva Italia liz dice for saint,
Who tcrbids our complaint
Ny Mamie would adI: "ho was safe and aware
Ota presence that turned Off the balls impress
1t was Guido himself, who knew what could bear,
And how twas impossible, quite dispossossed
To live on for the rest :"
On whit h without pause, up the telegraph line
Swept smoothly the next news from Oaeta-.' Shot
Tell his mothef!' All All his their moher-nol m.
No voice says Ny Mother again to me-What
You think Guido forgott
Are souls straight so happy that dizzy with Heaven
They drop earth's affections, conceive not of woe
| think not. Themselves were too lately forgiven
Tho the loved th2 sorrow which TeconciIed to
Ne above and below!
Christ of the wounds who ookedht thro tLcds
To the face of thy mother consider pray
How we common mothers stand desoater-mark
Whose soas not being Christs die with eyes turnelaR7
Ana no last word 10 say
Both boys dead but that's cut of nature. We all
Have been patriots, yet each house must always kCcJ
'Twere inbecie, hewing out roads to a waii,
And when Italy made for and it is done,
II we b we not q son!
All! ah an when Gaeta's taken; what then
When the fair wicked queen sits no more at her spor
the fire balls Of death, crushing souls ont Of men
When four guns of Clrvalla, with final retort
Have cat the game shot
When Venice and Rome keep their new iIbilsc:
When your flag takes all Heaven for its white, grrl
red
When you have your country from mountain to sea-
When King Victor has Italy's crown on his head
(And have my dead ,
What then d? Do not mock me. All ring your bels,,T
And burn your lights family. My country is there.
Above the star, prcked by the last peak of saow
Ny lays herewith my brave civic pair
To dafranchse despair.
Forgive me Some women bear children in s:reugtn,
And bite back the cry of their pain in Eelf acorn;
Into wal such as this and one sit on forurn
When the child is born.
Dead one Of them shot by tho sea in the East
And one of them shot in the West by the sea
Both! both my boys! If in keeping the feast
You want great song for your Italy free.
Let none look at me