Nationality – Dame Mary Gilmore

11 Sep

This poem by a much under-rated Australian poet is profoundly simple, a rare achievement. It is impossible not to sympathise with the speaker on the one hand, and not to be disturbed by the implications of what she says on the other.


I have grown past hate and bitterness,
I see the world as one;
But though I can no longer hate,
My son is still my son.

All men at God’s round table sit,
and all men must be fed;
But this loaf in my hand,
This loaf is my son’s bread.

Paradox, thy name is poetry.

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4 responses to “Nationality – Dame Mary Gilmore

  1. Anonymous

    November 1, 2007 at 2:43 pm

    u suk

  2. ninglun

    November 1, 2007 at 2:56 pm

    I wonder why this post produced that comment?

  3. sam

    November 21, 2007 at 2:40 pm

    what is this poem about (natonality)

  4. ninglun

    November 22, 2007 at 8:21 am

    The way we really put our own interests first, no matter what we say we believe…?

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