Poetry

His Mother's Face

By BROWNING, ELIZABETH BARRETT
THE light upon his eyelids pricked them wide
And staring out at us with all their blue,
As half perplexed between the angelhood
He had been away to visit in his sleep,
And our most mortal presence, gradually
He saw his mother's face, accepting it
In change for heaven itself with such a smile
As might have well bean learnt there.


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