Saturday, June 16, 2012

Enoch Powell: First Poems: XXXII) Matri Ecclesiae

XXXII) Matri Ecclesiae

Though nevermore thy face I’ll see,
Kind mother, though no more to thee
Shall e’er return  my wayward feet,
Yet still across the widening years
Thy well-known accents echo sweet,
As sweet they fall upon my ears
As sound of bells across a lake,
Or children’s voices in the choir;
And in my breast they ever wake
The echo of an old desire .
For though it would not, yet my heart
Confesses, Mother, who thou art.

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