Elizabeth Barrett Browning - Little Mattie lyrics
[Elizabeth Barrett Browning - Little Mattie lyrics]
Dead! Thirteen a month ago!
Short and narrow her life’s walk
Lover’s love she could not know
Even by a dream or talk:
Too young to be glad of youth
Missing honour, labour, rest
And the warmth of a babe’s mouth
At the blossom of her breast
Must you pity her for this
And for all the loss it is
You, her mother, with wet face
Having had all in your case?
Just so young but yesternight
Now she is as old as death
Meek, obedient in your sight
Gentle to a beck or breath
Only on last Monday! Yours
Answering you like silver bells
Lightly touched! An hour matures:
You can teach her nothing else
She has seen the mystery hid
Under Egypt’s pyramid:
By those eyelids pale and close
Now she knows what Rhamses knows
Cross her quiet hands, and smooth
Down her patient locks of silk
Cold and passive as in truth
You your fingers in spilt milk
Drew along a marble floor
But her lips you cannot wring
Into saying a word more
"Yes, " or "No, " or such a thing:
Though you call and beg and wreak
Half your soul out in a shriek
She will lie there in default
And most innocent revolt
Ay, and if she spoke, maybe
She would answer, like the Son
"What is now ’twixt thee and me?"
Dreadful answer! better none
Yours on Monday, God’s to day!
Yours, your child, your
Blood, your heart
Called you called her, did you say
"Little Mattie" for your part?
Now already it sounds strange
And you wonder, in this change
What He calls His angel-creature
Higher up than you can reach her
’T was a green and easy world
As she took it room to play
(Though one’s hair might get uncurled
At the far end of the day)
What she suffered she shook off
In the sunshine what she sinned
She could pray on high, enough
To keep safe above the wind
If reproved by God or you
’T was to better her, she knew
And if crossed, she gathered still
’T was to cross out something ill
You, you had the right, you thought
To survey her with sweet scorn
Poor gay child, who had not caught
Yet the octave-stretch forlorn
Of your larger wisdom! Nay
Now your places are changed so
In that same superior way
She regards you dull and low
As you did herself exempt
From life’s sorrows grand contempt
Of the spirit's risen awhile
Who look back with such a smile!
There’s the sting of’t that, I think
Hurts the most a thousandfold!
To feel sudden, at a wink
Some dear child we used to scold
Praise, love both ways, kiss and tease
Teach and tumble as our own
All it's curls about our knees
Rise up suddenly full-grown
Who could wonder such a sight
Made a woman mad outright?
Show me Michael with the sword
Rather than such angels, Lord!
Short and narrow her life’s walk
Lover’s love she could not know
Even by a dream or talk:
Too young to be glad of youth
Missing honour, labour, rest
And the warmth of a babe’s mouth
At the blossom of her breast
Must you pity her for this
And for all the loss it is
You, her mother, with wet face
Having had all in your case?
Just so young but yesternight
Now she is as old as death
Meek, obedient in your sight
Gentle to a beck or breath
Only on last Monday! Yours
Answering you like silver bells
Lightly touched! An hour matures:
You can teach her nothing else
She has seen the mystery hid
Under Egypt’s pyramid:
By those eyelids pale and close
Now she knows what Rhamses knows
Cross her quiet hands, and smooth
Down her patient locks of silk
Cold and passive as in truth
You your fingers in spilt milk
Drew along a marble floor
But her lips you cannot wring
Into saying a word more
"Yes, " or "No, " or such a thing:
Though you call and beg and wreak
Half your soul out in a shriek
She will lie there in default
And most innocent revolt
Ay, and if she spoke, maybe
She would answer, like the Son
"What is now ’twixt thee and me?"
Dreadful answer! better none
Yours on Monday, God’s to day!
Yours, your child, your
Blood, your heart
Called you called her, did you say
"Little Mattie" for your part?
Now already it sounds strange
And you wonder, in this change
What He calls His angel-creature
Higher up than you can reach her
’T was a green and easy world
As she took it room to play
(Though one’s hair might get uncurled
At the far end of the day)
What she suffered she shook off
In the sunshine what she sinned
She could pray on high, enough
To keep safe above the wind
If reproved by God or you
’T was to better her, she knew
And if crossed, she gathered still
’T was to cross out something ill
You, you had the right, you thought
To survey her with sweet scorn
Poor gay child, who had not caught
Yet the octave-stretch forlorn
Of your larger wisdom! Nay
Now your places are changed so
In that same superior way
She regards you dull and low
As you did herself exempt
From life’s sorrows grand contempt
Of the spirit's risen awhile
Who look back with such a smile!
There’s the sting of’t that, I think
Hurts the most a thousandfold!
To feel sudden, at a wink
Some dear child we used to scold
Praise, love both ways, kiss and tease
Teach and tumble as our own
All it's curls about our knees
Rise up suddenly full-grown
Who could wonder such a sight
Made a woman mad outright?
Show me Michael with the sword
Rather than such angels, Lord!