Guest poem sent in by P. G. Murthy
(Poem #1713) The Old Woman As a white candle In a holy place, So is the beauty Of an aged face. As the spent radiance Of the winter sun, So is a woman With her travail done, Her brood gone from her, And her thoughts as still As the waters Under a ruined mill. |
I am entranced by the quiet simplicity of this short poem by Joseph Campbell, an Irish Poet. The lines move with easy grace tracing the sad universal tale of a woman and her sacrifice as she moves along life to "the beauty of an aged face" before reaching the lonely furrowed, faded existence. P.G.Murthy [Links] We've run one Joseph Campbell poem before [Poem #338]. There's a short biographical note attached there.
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