89. EBB to Mary Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 1, 78–79.
Hope End
May 1st 1819
Ode to my dearest Mama
On her birthday [1]
Hail fragrant Summer, hail delightful Spring,
Amidst the year, with generous plenty smiling,
And all the ravages of Winter sting,
With sweet profusion, and with hope beguiling;
Hail lovely month! Within thy generous train,
And dancing sportively to fairy measure,
And crowning each and all thy plenteous reign,
Are gentle Mirth, and Hope, & young eyed Pleasure;
And Gayety with dimpled brow;
And Flora’s [2] self, unbidden now,
Her mingled beauties showers;
Her hand combines each different hue,
Each petalled herb, that sips the dew,
And sows the turf with flowers.–
I call thee not, Oh Muse to fire,
My breast & strike the chorded lyre;
My soul, my heart desire to prove,
Th’ inspiring lay of filial love,—
Let every pleasure now combine,
And every kindred mirth,
To gild this day with joy divine
And hail a Mothers birth.
May every bliss that Heaven bestows,
Await thy coming days,
And happiness unmixed with woes
Renew—as life decays!–
Publication: None traced.
Source: Copy in Mary Moulton-Barrett’s hand in “Poems by EBB,” Berg Collection.
1. Her 38th birthday.
2. The Roman goddess of flowers.
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