You came to the grounds of Granard’s Church.
What could be worse?
Oh Anne, your were but a child and not much more
When the pangs of labour,
All alone, you had to endure.
Your labour bed was a sheet of glass,
Your midwifes were the clouds that passed.
Anne, your life was to end in sorrow,
For your, there were no bright tomorrow.
Those closed doors and twitching curtains,
Nuns and priest that turned the other way.
We will never know for certain,
The true story of your final day
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Anne Alone by mai venn )
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
David Herbert Lawrence
(11 September 1885 – 2 March 1930)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
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