The Catholic Parish of
Saint John Henry Newman

 Covering most of East Leeds

The Mother of God

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The threefold terror of love, a fallen flare
Through the hollow of an ear;
Wings beating about the room;
The terror of all terrors that I bore
The heavens in my womb

Had I not found content among the shows
Every common woman knows,
Chimney corner, garden walk,
Or rocky cistern where we tread the clothes
And gather all the talk?

What is this flesh I purchased with my pains,
This fallen star my milk sustains,
This love that makes my heartís blood stop
Or strikes a sudden chill into my bones
And bids my hair stand up?

W B Yeats

Published Fri 20th Dec 2013 18:37:57

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