13. EBB to Mary Moulton-Barrett

As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 1, 11.

[Hope End]

Sent to Mama on 1st May: 1814. [1]

T’was dark—the tempest blew aloud,

And light’ning flashed from every cloud,

A wretched Mother, fondly pressed,

Her infant Babies to her breast;

These were stern winters lonely prize,

They shut—they closed poor little eyes.

They died, contented in their Mothers arms

No houses near—nor little farms!

The restless leaves were hushed, in yonder wood

No mortal lived—no cottage stood!

This wretched mother’s gone into her wat’ry grave,

No man can pass—no man can save!

The waters shook, as there she fell,

The chilling tempest blew farewell!–

Publication: HUP, I, 38–39 (from copy in Mary Moulton-Barrett’s hand, Huntington Library).

Source: EBB’s fair copy in “Poems by EBB,” Berg Collection.

1. Her thirty-third birthday.

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