The Affliction of Margaret by William Wordsworth (Poem, Summary, Paraphrase & Analysis)

 

The Affliction of Margaret

by William Wordsworth

(Poem, Summary, Paraphrase & Analysis) 

The Affliction of Margaret

Where art thou, my beloved Son,

Where art thou, worse to me than dead?

O find me, prosperous or undone!

Or, if the grave be now thy bed,

Why am I ignorant of the same

That I may rest; and neither blame

Nor sorrow may attend thy name?

 

Seven years, alas! to have received

No tidings of an only child;

To have despaired, have hoped, believed,

And been for evermore beguiled,—

Sometimes with thoughts of very bliss!

I catch at them, and then I miss;

Was ever darkness like to this?

 

He was among the prime in worth,

An object beauteous to behold;

Well born, well bred; I sent him forth

Ingenuous, innocent, and bold:

If things ensued that wanted grace,

As hath been said, they were not base;

And never blush was on my face.

 

Ah! little doth the young-one dream,

When full of play and childish cares,

What power is in his wildest scream,

Heard by his mother unawares!

He knows it not, he cannot guess:

Years to a mother bring distress;

But do not make her love the less.

 

Neglect me! no, I suffered long

From that ill thought; and, being blind,

Said, "Pride shall help me in my wrong:

Kind mother have I been, as kind

As ever breathed:" and that is true;

I've wet my path with tears like dew,

Weeping for him when no one knew.

 

My son, if thou be humbled, poor,

Hopeless of honour and of gain,

O! do not dread thy mother's door;

Think not of me with grief and pain:

I now can see with better eyes;

And worldly grandeur I despise,

And fortune with her gifts and lies.

 

Alas! the fowls of heaven have wings,

And blasts of heaven will aid their flight;

They mount—how short a voyage brings

The wanderers back to their delight!

Chains tie us down by land and sea;

And wishes, vain as mine, may be

All that is left to comfort thee.

 

Perhaps some dungeon hears thee groan,

Maimed, mangled by inhuman men;

Or thou upon a desert thrown

Inheritest the lion's den;

Or hast been summoned to the deep,

Thou, thou and all thy mates, to keep

An incommunicable sleep.

 

I look for ghosts; but none will force

Their way to me: 'tis falsely said

That there was ever intercourse

Between the living and the dead;

For surely then I should have sight

Of him I wait for day and night,

With love and longings infinite.

 

My apprehensions come in crowds;

I dread the rustling of the grass;

The very shadows of the clouds

Have power to shake me as they pass;

I question things and do not find

One that will answer to my mind;

And all the world appears unkind.

 

Beyond participation lie

My troubles, and beyond relief:

If any chance to heave a sigh,

They pity me, and not my grief.

Then come I to my bed, and cry,

If I may die!—Oh me, oh me!

Unhappy mother!—God help thee.

 

Summary

William Wordsworth’s The Affliction of Margaret is a deeply moving poem that portrays the anguish of a mother who has been separated from her only son for many years. Through her monologue, the reader is drawn into her emotional world of longing, uncertainty, and despair. The poem is not a philosophical meditation or an abstract reflection, but rather a heartfelt cry of a mother whose love is undiminished by time or silence.

The poem begins with Margaret’s direct and sorrowful question: “Where art thou, my beloved Son?” She laments that her son’s absence is even worse than death. If he were dead, she could grieve and find closure, but his disappearance leaves her in a perpetual state of torment. She longs for any news—whether of prosperity or ruin—so that she might know the truth and be released from the burden of uncertainty. For seven long years, she has lived in this state, receiving no word of him. During this time, she has swung between hope and despair, moments of believing him alive and well, and sudden plunges into fear and grief. This emotional instability is described as darkness unlike any other.

Margaret recalls her son as a youth of fine character and noble upbringing. She emphasizes that he was “well born, well bred,” and though he may have made some mistakes, he was never dishonourable. Her memories of his early life are filled with pride, love, and a sense of promise. These recollections only intensify her suffering, as she contrasts the bright hopes of the past with the silence of the present.

The poem then shifts to her reflections on the nature of maternal love. She remembers how, when her son was a child, even his careless cries carried weight in her heart. A mother’s love, she says, never diminishes with time, even though years may bring distress. She rejects the idea that her son could ever have neglected her, though she confesses that she once entertained this painful suspicion. Yet she comforts herself with the knowledge that she was a kind and loving mother, and that she shed tears for him in secret.

Margaret then speaks directly to her absent son, telling him that if he has been reduced to poverty or shame, he should not fear returning home. She assures him that her eyes are now free from worldly illusions and that she no longer values status or fortune. For her, only his presence matters. In this declaration, her unconditional love is clear—no disgrace or misfortune could ever lessen her acceptance of him.

The poem grows darker as Margaret imagines possible fates that might have befallen her son. He might be languishing in a dungeon, suffering at the hands of cruel men. He might have been abandoned in a wilderness, left to perish among wild beasts. Or perhaps he has been lost at sea, his body lying in a watery grave with no hope of return. These haunting possibilities torment her mind, for each scenario brings her closer to despair.

Margaret then confronts the silence of the spiritual world. She longs for some message from beyond—some vision or sign of her son—but laments that no ghostly communication comes. If there truly were communion between the living and the dead, she insists, surely her son would have appeared to comfort her. The absence of such a sign only deepens her suffering, leaving her love unfulfilled and her hopes unanswered.

Her fears multiply endlessly, until even the rustling of the grass or the passing of a cloud fills her with dread. She questions everything around her but finds nothing that can provide certainty or reassurance. The world itself seems cruel and unresponsive to her grief.

The final stanza captures the depth of Margaret’s isolation. Her troubles lie beyond the reach of comfort, for no one can share fully in her anguish. Even when others sigh with pity, they cannot truly enter into her sorrow—they feel compassion for her, but not for the unique pain of a mother’s loss. Left to herself, she retreats to her bed with tears and prayers for death. The poem closes with a desperate cry: “Unhappy mother!—God help thee.” It is an ending that underscores both her helplessness and her unwavering love.

In sum, The Affliction of Margaret is a powerful portrayal of maternal grief sustained by uncertainty. Margaret is not only afflicted by her son’s absence but also by the torment of not knowing his fate. Her love remains constant, transcending time, distance, and even shame. Yet it is this same love that deepens her suffering, for without resolution, she can find no peace. Through Margaret’s voice, Wordsworth captures the universal pain of loss, the persistence of hope, and the enduring bond between mother and child.

 

Line-by-line Paraphrase

Stanza 1

Where art thou, my beloved Son,

--> Where are you, my dear son?

 

Where art thou, worse to me than dead?

--> Where are you? Your absence feels worse than death to me.

 

O find me, prosperous or undone!

--> Come back to me, whether you are successful or ruined.

 

Or, if the grave be now thy bed,

--> Or, if you are dead and lying in the grave,

 

Why am I ignorant of the same

--> Why am I left without knowledge of it,

 

That I may rest; and neither blame

--> So that I may finally have peace,

 

Nor sorrow may attend thy name?

--> And so that your name may bring no more grief or reproach.

 

Stanza 2

Seven years, alas! to have received

--> Seven long years I have lived without receiving

 

No tidings of an only child;

--> Any news of my only son;

 

To have despaired, have hoped, believed,

--> I have despaired, then hoped, then believed again,

 

And been for evermore beguiled,—

--> And all along deceived by my shifting feelings.

 

Sometimes with thoughts of very bliss!

--> At times, I was filled with joyful thoughts,

 

I catch at them, and then I miss;

--> I grasped at them, but they slipped away,

 

Was ever darkness like to this?

--> Was there ever a darkness as terrible as this uncertainty?

 

Stanza 3

He was among the prime in worth,

--> He was one of the best in character,

 

An object beauteous to behold;

--> And he was handsome to look at.

 

Well born, well bred; I sent him forth

--> He came from a good family, well educated; I sent him out into the world,

 

Ingenuous, innocent, and bold:

--> Honest, innocent, and brave.

 

If things ensued that wanted grace,

--> If he sometimes did things that lacked refinement,

 

As hath been said, they were not base;

--> As some have said, they were never shameful or dishonourable.

 

And never blush was on my face.

--> He never did anything that made me feel ashamed.

 

Stanza 4

Ah! little doth the young-one dream,

--> Oh! How little does a child imagine,

 

When full of play and childish cares,

--> When he is busy with play and small worries,

 

What power is in his wildest scream,

--> How much power even his wildest cry holds,

 

Heard by his mother unawares!

--> When his mother suddenly hears it.

 

He knows it not, he cannot guess:

--> The child does not know it, he cannot guess it:

 

Years to a mother bring distress;

--> As years go by, they bring a mother sorrow,

 

But do not make her love the less.

--> But they never lessen her love.

 

Stanza 5

Neglect me! no, I suffered long

--> Neglect me? No! Though I endured that painful thought for long,

 

From that ill thought; and, being blind,

--> And in my blindness,

 

Said, "Pride shall help me in my wrong:

--> I told myself: “I will rely on pride to endure this wrong:

 

Kind mother have I been, as kind

--> For I know I have been a kind mother, as kind

 

As ever breathed:" and that is true;

--> As any mother who ever lived.” And that is indeed true;

 

I've wet my path with tears like dew,

--> I have shed tears constantly, like dew wetting the ground,

 

Weeping for him when no one knew.

--> Secretly weeping for him, when no one knew.

 

Stanza 6

My son, if thou be humbled, poor,

--> My son, if you are humiliated and poor,

 

Hopeless of honour and of gain,

--> With no hope of honour or success,

 

O! do not dread thy mother's door;

--> Do not be afraid to return to your mother’s home.

 

Think not of me with grief and pain:

--> Do not imagine that I will meet you with grief or reproach.

 

I now can see with better eyes;

--> I now see the world more clearly,

 

And worldly grandeur I despise,

--> And I despise worldly riches and fame,

 

And fortune with her gifts and lies.

--> As well as fortune with her deceptive promises.

 

Stanza 7

Alas! the fowls of heaven have wings,

--> Alas! The birds of heaven have wings,

 

And blasts of heaven will aid their flight;

--> And the winds of heaven help them in their flight;

 

They mount—how short a voyage brings

--> They soar into the air—and in no time at all,

 

The wanderers back to their delight!

--> They return happily to their nest.

 

Chains tie us down by land and sea;

--> But we humans are bound by chains on land and sea;

 

And wishes, vain as mine, may be

--> And wishes, as vain as mine,

 

All that is left to comfort thee.

--> May be all that I have left to comfort you.

 

Stanza 8

Perhaps some dungeon hears thee groan,

--> Perhaps you are groaning in some dungeon,

 

Maimed, mangled by inhuman men;

--> Crippled and tortured by cruel men;

 

Or thou upon a desert thrown

--> Or perhaps you have been abandoned on a desert place,

 

Inheritest the lion's den;

--> Left to live—or die—in the lion’s den;

 

Or hast been summoned to the deep,

--> Or you may have been swallowed by the sea,

 

Thou, thou and all thy mates, to keep

--> You, and all your companions,

 

An incommunicable sleep.

--> In an eternal, silent sleep of death.

 

Stanza 9

I look for ghosts; but none will force

--> I look for spirits of the dead; but none will come

 

Their way to me: 'tis falsely said

--> To me. It is false when people say

 

That there was ever intercourse

--> That there is contact

 

Between the living and the dead;

--> Between the living and the dead;

 

For surely then I should have sight

--> For surely, if that were true, I would have seen

 

Of him I wait for day and night,

--> The son for whom I wait day and night,

 

With love and longings infinite.

--> With endless love and longing.

 

Stanza 10

My apprehensions come in crowds;

--> My fears rush upon me in crowds;

 

I dread the rustling of the grass;

--> Even the rustling of the grass fills me with dread;

 

The very shadows of the clouds

--> Even the shadows of passing clouds

 

Have power to shake me as they pass;

--> Have the power to shake me as they pass over;

 

I question things and do not find

--> I question everything around me,

 

One that will answer to my mind;

--> But nothing can give me an answer;

 

And all the world appears unkind.

--> And the whole world seems unkind to me.

 

Stanza 11

Beyond participation lie

--> My grief is beyond anyone’s ability to share,

 

My troubles, and beyond relief:

--> Beyond anyone’s ability to relieve.

 

If any chance to heave a sigh,

--> If someone happens to sigh when they see me,

 

They pity me, and not my grief.

--> They only pity me, not the depth of my suffering.

 

Then come I to my bed, and cry,

--> Then I go to my bed, and cry,

 

If I may die!—Oh me, oh me!

--> Wishing that I could die! Oh, wretched me!

 

Unhappy mother!—God help thee.

--> Miserable mother! May God help you.

 

Analysis in Detail

William Wordsworth’s The Affliction of Margaret is one of his most poignant explorations of grief, maternal love, and the torment of uncertainty. Unlike much of Wordsworth’s poetry that dwells on nature’s restorative power or celebrates rustic simplicity, this poem turns inward, portraying a mother’s anguished monologue about her long-lost son. Through its raw emotional intensity, plain diction, and psychological realism, the poem becomes an intimate study of human suffering that transcends its historical setting.

At its core, the poem presents a paradox: the mother’s son has been absent for seven years, yet she cannot mourn him as dead, nor rejoice in him as living. This unresolved state—what we might call a limbo of grief—constitutes her “affliction.” For Margaret, death would be painful but at least bearable, because it would give closure. Instead, the unknown prolongs her agony. She is haunted not only by absence but also by imagination. Each possibility—prosperity, disgrace, imprisonment, desertion, drowning—appears vividly before her mind, intensifying her torment. In this way, Wordsworth powerfully conveys how uncertainty itself can be more cruel than loss.

A defining feature of the poem is its treatment of maternal love. Margaret recalls her son’s childhood innocence, his good breeding, and his youthful promise. She insists he was never dishonourable, never a cause of shame. Even when she entertains the painful suspicion that he has neglected her, she defends herself by affirming her own kindness as a mother. Above all, she makes it clear that no matter what has become of him—poverty, disgrace, or ruin—he would still be welcome home. In these declarations, Wordsworth captures the unconditional nature of maternal affection: a love that neither disgrace nor failure can erase.

Stylistically, the poem differs from Wordsworth’s idyllic descriptions of nature. Here, natural imagery functions instead as an extension of Margaret’s fears. The rustling grass, the passing clouds, the restless shadows—all become triggers of anxiety, magnifying her inner turmoil. The absence of supernatural consolation is also notable. Margaret longs for a ghostly vision, some message from beyond the grave, but none comes. This rejection of “intercourse between the living and the dead” emphasizes the harsh reality of her suffering: she must endure without closure, without miracle, without certainty. Wordsworth, often associated with spiritual or transcendental moments in nature, here offers none. The silence of both heaven and earth deepens the pathos of Margaret’s plight.

The voice of the poem is strikingly authentic. Wordsworth adopts the perspective of a simple, rural mother, and the diction remains plain, unornamented, and direct. There is no grandeur in her speech; instead, it is full of repetition, exclamations, and abrupt turns of thought. These qualities reflect the restless, circular movement of grief—the inability to settle, the endless rehearsing of fears and hopes. The frequent use of rhetorical questions (“Where art thou, my beloved Son?”) underscores her desperation and her lack of answers. By giving her a direct, unfiltered voice, Wordsworth achieves a realism that anticipates modern psychological poetry.

Another dimension of the poem lies in its universality. While Margaret’s circumstances are particular—an English mother in a rural community—her emotions resonate across cultures and eras. The pain of waiting for news of a missing loved one, the conflict between hope and despair, the relentless hold of memory—these are experiences that transcend historical context. In this sense, Wordsworth succeeds in portraying a profoundly individual grief while at the same time capturing something universally human.

The poem’s structure reinforces its emotional trajectory. It begins with a direct cry for her son, moves through recollections of his past and reflections on her own motherhood, and descends into darker imaginings of his possible fate. Finally, it ends not with resolution, but with a cry for divine help. There is no closure, no reconciliation, no recovery—only exhaustion and a prayer. This is unusual in Wordsworth, who often seeks consolation in nature or faith. Here, however, the mother remains locked in her anguish. The effect is one of tragic realism.

In conclusion, The Affliction of Margaret is one of Wordsworth’s most emotionally powerful poems because it strips away ornament and transcendence to present grief in its rawest form. Through Margaret’s voice, Wordsworth shows how uncertainty can prolong and intensify sorrow, how memory and imagination can torment as much as they comfort, and how maternal love persists despite despair. It is a portrait not of resolution, but of endurance—a reminder that some human afflictions cannot be healed by nature, philosophy, or faith, but must be borne in their stark reality. The poem stands as a testament to Wordsworth’s ability to capture not only the beauty of the natural world but also the depth of human suffering.