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Sonnet To My Mom by George Baker Most close, most beloved, most loved, and many far, Under the huge window where I often seen her Sitting as enormous as Asia, seismic with laughter, Gin and chicken helpless in her hands, Irresistible as Rabelais but most tender for The lame dogs and hurt birds which surround her,- She is a procession no one can follow after But be like a little dog following a brass ring. She will not glance up at the bomber or condescend To fall her gin and scuttle into a basement, But lean onto the mahogany table like a hill Whom only religion can move, and so I deliver O all of her religion and all my love to tell her That she'll move from mourning into morning. George Barker A critical appreciation of 'to my mother' from George Baker This sonnet by George Baker is, as the title indicates , a tribute to his mother, evidently, at the time of the aerial bombardment of Britain from the Luftwaffe at the Blitz during the Second World War. The poet was then, apparently, living in a distant part of the world, as he refers to his mother becoming 'most much'. This was probably some time between 1942 and 1943 when Baker was living in the U.S.A and Canada. The poet's intension isn't only to pay tribute to his mother but, more especially, as the poem is treated 'into' her, to deliver her love and expression of his firm belief that she will 'move' from 'mourning to dawn', in other words, she is going to be lifted out of her present state of despair over a bereavement to the light, life and hope related to 'morning' or a brand new day. The poet's feelings of fantastic respect for and love of his mother are e.. .