Analysis of The Widow and Her Son XXI

Khalil Gibran 1883 (Bsharri) – 1931 (New York City)



Night fell over North Lebanon and snow was covering the villages surrounded by the Kadeesha Valley, giving the fields and prairies the appearance of a great sheet of parchment upon which the furious Nature was recording her many deeds. Men came home from the streets while silence engulfed the night.

In a lone house near those villages lived a woman who sat by her fireside spinning wool, and at her side was her only child, staring now at the fire and then at his mother.

A terrible roar of thunder shook the house and the little boy shook with fright. He threw his arms about his mother, seeking protection from Nature in her affection. She took him to her bosom and kissed him; then she say him on her lap and said, "Do not fear, my son, for Nature is but comparing her great power to man's weakness. There is a Supreme Being beyond the falling snow and the heavy clouds and the blowing wind, and He knows the needs of the earth, for He made it; and He looks upon the weak with merciful eyes.

"Be brave, my boy. Nature smiles in Spring and laughs in Summer and yawns in Autumn, but now she is weeping; and with her tears she waters life, hidden under the earth.

"Sleep, my dear child; your father is viewing us from Eternity. The snow and thunder bring us closer to him at this time.

"Sleep, my beloved, for this white blanket which makes us cold, keeps the seeds warm, and these war-like things will produce beautiful flowers when Nisan comes.

"Thus, my child, man cannot reap love until after sad and revealing separation, and bitter patience, and desperate hardship. Sleep, my little boy; sweet dreams will find your soul who is unafraid of the terrible darkness of night and the biting frost."

The little boy looked upon his mother with sleep-laden eyes and said, "Mother, my eyes are heavy, but I cannot go to bed without saying my prayer."

The woman looked at his angelic face, her vision blurred by misted eyes, and said, "Repeat with me, my boy - 'God, have mercy on the poor and protect them from the winter; warm their thin-clad bodies with Thy merciful hands; look upon the orphans who are sleeping in wretched houses, suffering from hunger and cold. Hear, oh Lord, the call of widows who are helpless and shivering with fear for their young. Open, oh Lord, the hearts of all humans, that they may see the misery of the weak. Have mercy upon the sufferers who knock on doors, and lead the wayfarers into warm places. Watch, oh Lord, over the little birds and protect the trees and fields from the anger of the storm; for Thou art merciful and full of love.'"

As Slumber captured the boy's spirit, his mother placed him in the bed and kissed his eyes with quivering lips. Then she went back and sat by the hearth, spinning the wool to make him raiment.


Scheme A X X X X X X X X A
Poetic Form
Metre 11101100011100010001010110100101000101011110011010010101001011111011100101 00111110010101110101010101101011011010011110 01001110101001011111111011101001011000010111101001111111010111111110110100110111011001100101010010100101011011011111011010111001 111110101010100101011111001011101101001 111111011011010001010111011111 110111110111110110111110110010111 11111011011010010010010100101011101111111110110100101100101 0101101110111010110111101110111011011 010111101010111101011111111010100111010111110111001101010111001010100110011110111011100100111111011011110111101001011100101001111010101110111100101001010110101011111000111 1101001101101100101111100111110110110011111
Characters 2,774
Words 510
Sentences 23
Stanzas 10
Stanza Lengths 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1
Lines Amount 10
Letters per line (avg) 217
Words per line (avg) 51
Letters per stanza (avg) 217
Words per stanza (avg) 51
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

2:32 min read
109

Khalil Gibran

Khalil Gibran was a Lebanese artist, poet, and writer. more…

All Khalil Gibran poems | Khalil Gibran Books

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