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 | The poetical works of Lucy Larcom |  |
MY CHILDREN.
They are a beauteous family,
Sweet sisters and brave brothers;
Too many for one house, you see,
And so I have to let them be
In care of other mothers.
Sweet sisters and brave brothers;
Too many for one house, you see,
And so I have to let them be
In care of other mothers.
They go by other names than mine,
But names have little meaning:
They know me by some secret sign;
And roseleaf cheeks and fingers fine
Towards me come clinging, leaning.
But names have little meaning:
They know me by some secret sign;
And roseleaf cheeks and fingers fine
Towards me come clinging, leaning.
None of them all I claim alone—
With other hearts I share them;
But this the common lot is known:
All mothers, when their babes are grown,
To the wide world must spare them.
With other hearts I share them;
But this the common lot is known:
All mothers, when their babes are grown,
To the wide world must spare them.
My loveliest children never go
Out of my happy dwelling;
No mortal parentage they know,
Though on the walls “Correggio”
And “Raphael” you are spelling.
Out of my happy dwelling;
No mortal parentage they know,
Though on the walls “Correggio”
And “Raphael” you are spelling.
Not quite so dear as flesh and blood,
They are to me most real:
In them I see heaven's childhood bud;
These little human stars that stud
The skies of the Ideal.
They are to me most real:
In them I see heaven's childhood bud;
These little human stars that stud
The skies of the Ideal.
That land of glorious mystery
Whither we all are wending
A lonely sort of heaven will be,
If there no baby-family
Awaits my love and tending.
Whither we all are wending
A lonely sort of heaven will be,
If there no baby-family
Awaits my love and tending.
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Windows of mansions in the skies
Must glow with infant faces,
Or somewhere else is Paradise:
The lovely laughter of their eyes
Lights up all heavenly places.
Must glow with infant faces,
Or somewhere else is Paradise:
The lovely laughter of their eyes
Lights up all heavenly places.
My darlings! by my mother-heart
I have found, I shall find them:
Though some from me are worlds apart,
And, thinking of them, tears will start
Into my eyes, and blind them.
I have found, I shall find them:
Though some from me are worlds apart,
And, thinking of them, tears will start
Into my eyes, and blind them.
O little ones whom I have found
Among earth's green paths playing,
Though listening far behind, around,
There comes to me no sweeter sound
Than words I hear you saying!
Among earth's green paths playing,
Though listening far behind, around,
There comes to me no sweeter sound
Than words I hear you saying!
O little ones whom I shall see
On floors of golden glory,
I guess how fair your looks will be
When your sweet voices lisp to me
Your beautiful new story!
On floors of golden glory,
I guess how fair your looks will be
When your sweet voices lisp to me
Your beautiful new story!
It was a little Child who swung
Wide back that City's portal
Where hearts remain forever young;
And, all things good and pure among,
Shall childhood be immortal.
Wide back that City's portal
Where hearts remain forever young;
And, all things good and pure among,
Shall childhood be immortal.
| The poetical works of Lucy Larcom | |