D. H. Lawrence gives us a son speaking to his dead mother. He calls her “my little love” and sees her as the doorway through which he entered the world. She gave him birth twice, he says: once physically from her womb, and once by releasing him into an independent self, free from the closed circle of family feeling. Now that she is dead, he is both grateful and devastated. He must say goodbye and walk into the future alone, like a man ploughing hard ground, but his soul cannot move from her bedside. The language is tender, almost prayer-like, and the title gives her a sacred, Madonna-like quality. The mood is hushed and sorrowful—an intimate farewell mixing love, awe, and the ache of leaving the person who shaped him.
The Virgin Mother — Summary
My little love, my darling, You were a doorway to me; You let me out of the confines Into this strange countrie, Where people are crowded like thistles, Yet are shapely and comely to see.
My little love, my dearest Twice have you issued me, Once from your womb, sweet mother, Once from myself, to be Free of all hearts, my darling, Of each heart's home-life free.
And so, my love, my mother, I shall always be true to you; Twice I am born, my dearest, To life, and to death, in you; And this is the life hereafter Wherein I am true.
I kiss you good-bye, my darling, Our ways are different now; You are a seed in the night-time, I am a man, to plough The difficult glebe of the future For God to endow.
I kiss you good-bye, my dearest, It is finished between us here. Oh, if I were calm as you are, Sweet and still on your bier! God, if I had not to leave you Alone, my dear!
Let the last word be uttered, Oh grant the farewell is said! Spare me the strength to leave you Now you are dead. I must go, but my soul lies helpless Beside your bed.