O wistful eyes that haunt the gloom of sleep,
Are you my own, remembered from the night
I sat before my glass in dumb affright
And saw my cowering soul afraid to weep?
Perhaps you are his, foreshadowed, when I creep
Behind him and confess the hopeless blight
That wilts the bloom of our supreme delight
The breath of horror from the unknown deep.
Eyes that have never seen a mother's face,
Have you no mercy that you stare and stare,
Although I never felt the hope I slew?
Wide eyes, but when I kneel to God for grace,
Your steadfast pity deepens my despair;
The darkness I desire is full of you.
Unborn
John Le Gay Brereton
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Poem topics: breath, despair, god, hope, mother, night, sleep, desire, soul, mercy, deep, wide, face, unknown, supreme, delight, afraid, glass, bloom, horror, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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