 | Nacoochee ; or, the beautiful star, with other Poems |  |
THE MOTHER CHIDING HER FIRST BORN.
Touch not the baby—let her lie—
And in her cradle sleep;
But brush away each restive fly,
But do not make her weep.
Her flaxen hair—her snow-white breast—
Her silken lashes fine—
Her coral lips, so calm at rest,
Breathe something so divine.
And in her cradle sleep;
But brush away each restive fly,
But do not make her weep.
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Her silken lashes fine—
Her coral lips, so calm at rest,
Breathe something so divine.
“Oh, mother! let me give one kiss,
And I will go away?”
“Yes, take it, dear! nor act amiss,
And get thee off to play.
Find some cool shade among the vine
In yon sequestered dale,
Where wanton winds the boughs entwine
In every freshening gale.”
And I will go away?”
“Yes, take it, dear! nor act amiss,
And get thee off to play.
Find some cool shade among the vine
In yon sequestered dale,
Where wanton winds the boughs entwine
In every freshening gale.”
“Oh, mother! let me kiss once more
That sweet and pretty bird?
Then I will take me to the door,
Nor speak one single word?”
“No, gentlest! let thy sister sleep,
And in her cradle lie—
You must not wake her—lest she weep—
And come back by-and-by.”
That sweet and pretty bird?
Then I will take me to the door,
Nor speak one single word?”
“No, gentlest! let thy sister sleep,
And in her cradle lie—
You must not wake her—lest she weep—
And come back by-and-by.”
| Nacoochee ; or, the beautiful star, with other Poems | |