The Mother
Surely admired her the rosy day-dawn when,summoning the farmers to the still grey fields,it saw her barefooted, with quick step passingamong the dewy odours of the hay.
Heard her at midday the elm-trees white with dust,as, with broad shoulders bent o'er the yellow winrows,she challenges in cheery song the grasshopperswhose hoarse chirping rings from the hot hillsides.
And when from her toil she lifted her turgid bosom,her sunbrowned face with glossy curls surrounded,how, then, thy vesper fires, O Tuscany,did richly tinge with colour her bold figure!
'T is then the strong mother plays at ball with her infant,the lusty child whom her naked breasts have just sated:tosses him on high and prattles sweetly with him,while he, with eye fixed on the shining eyes of his mother,
his little body trembling all over with fear, holds outhis tiny fingers imploring; then loud laughs the mother,and into the one great embrace of lovelets him fall clasped close to her bosom.
Around her smiles the scene of homely labor;tremulous nod the oats on the green hillsides;one hears the distant mooing of the ox,and on the barn roof the gay plumed cock is crowing.
Nature has her brave ones who for her despisethe masks of glory dear to the vulgar throng.'T is thus, O Adrian, with holy visionsthou comfortest the souls of fellow-men.
'T is thus, O artist, with thy blow severethou putt'st in stone the ages' ancient hope,the lofty hope that cries, “O when shall laborbe happy? and faithful love secure from harm?”
When shall a mighty nation of freemensay in the face of the sun: “Shine no moreon the idle ease and the selfish wars of tyrants;but on the pious justice of labour”—?
Words in this poem
- admired a.
- Regarded with wonder and delight; highly prized; as, an admired poem.
- barefooted a.
- Having the feet bare.
- vesper n.
- The evening star; Hesper; Venus, when seen after sunset; hence, the evening. [L., the evening, the evening star, the west; akin to Gr. west. Cf. Hesperian, Vespers.]
- imploring a.
- That implores; beseeching; entreating.
- homely a.
- Belonging to, or having the characteristics of, home; domestic; familiar; intimate. [From Home, n.]
- despise v. t.
- To look down upon with disfavor or contempt; to contemn; to scorn; to disdain; to have a low opinion or contemptuous dislike of. [OF. despis-, in some forms of despire to despise, fr. L. despicere, despectum, to look down upon, despise; de- + spicere, specere, to look. See Spy, and cf. Des]
- adrian a.
- Pertaining to the Adriatic Sea; as, Adrian billows. [L. Hadrianus.]
- artist n.
- One who practices some mechanic art or craft; an artisan. [F. artiste, LL. artista, fr. L. ars. See Art, n., and cf. Artiste.]
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Mother is in the public domain. This text is taken from By Frank Sewall (London: Osgood, McIlvaine & Co., 1893), Project Gutenberg ebook #56711, the Frank Sewall translation; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Giosuè Carducci, The Mother, in Poems of Giosuè Carducci (1893), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #56711, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/carducci-poems/the-mother.html, id L26525.
Form and metre
The Mother is 36 lines in 9 stanzas of 4 lines each. The metre is trochaic hexameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 71%).
See other poems in trochaic hexameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against trochaic hexameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Surely admired her the rosy day-dawn when, | 11 | /˘˘/··/˘··· |
| summoning the farmers to the still grey fields, | 10 | /˘·/˘····· |
| it saw her barefooted, with quick step passing | 11 | ···/·˘···/˘ |
| among the dewy odours of the hay. | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| Heard her at midday the elm-trees white with dust, | 11 | ···/······· |
| as, with broad shoulders bent o'er the yellow winrows, | 12 | ···/˘···/˘·· |
| she challenges in cheery song the grasshoppers | 11 | ·/˘·/˘··/·˘ |
| whose hoarse chirping rings from the hot hillsides. | 10 | ··/˘····/· |
| And when from her toil she lifted her turgid bosom, | 13 | ······/˘·/˘/˘ |
| her sunbrowned face with glossy curls surrounded, | 11 | ·····/˘·˘/˘ |
| how, then, thy vesper fires, O Tuscany, | 11 | ···/˘/˘·/˘˘ |
| did richly tinge with colour her bold figure! | 11 | ·/˘··/˘··/˘ |
| 'T is then the strong mother plays at ball with her infant, | 14 | ·····/˘·····/˘ |
| the lusty child whom her naked breasts have just sated: | 13 | ·/˘···/˘···/˘ |
| tosses him on high and prattles sweetly with him, | 12 | /˘····/˘/˘·· |
| while he, with eye fixed on the shining eyes of his mother, | 14 | ·······/˘···/˘ |
| his little body trembling all over with fear, holds out | 13 | ·/˘/˘/˘······ |
| his tiny fingers imploring; then loud laughs the mother, | 14 | ·/˘/˘˘/˘····/˘ |
| and into the one great embrace of love | 10 | ······˘/·· |
| lets him fall clasped close to her bosom. | 10 | ····˘···/˘ |
| Around her smiles the scene of homely labor; | 11 | ·······/˘/˘ |
| tremulous nod the oats on the green hillsides; | 10 | /˘······/· |
| one hears the distant mooing of the ox, | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| and on the barn roof the gay plumed cock is crowing. | 12 | ··········/˘ |
| Nature has her brave ones who for her despise | 11 | /˘·······˘/ |
| the masks of glory dear to the vulgar throng. | 11 | ···/˘···/˘· |
| 'T is thus, O Adrian, with holy visions | 11 | ····/˘·/˘/˘ |
| thou comfortest the souls of fellow-men. | 10 | ·/˘˘···/˘· |
| 'T is thus, O artist, with thy blow severe | 11 | ····/˘···˘/ |
| thou putt'st in stone the ages' ancient hope, | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| the lofty hope that cries, “O when shall labor | 11 | ·/˘······/˘ |
| be happy? and faithful love secure from harm?” | 11 | ·/˘·/˘·˘/·· |
| When shall a mighty nation of freemen | 10 | ···/˘/˘·/˘ |
| say in the face of the sun: “Shine no more | 10 | ·········· |
| on the idle ease and the selfish wars of tyrants; | 13 | ··/˘···/˘··/˘ |
| but on the pious justice of labour”—? | 10 | ···/˘/˘·/· |
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