 | The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter |  |
140
MY PRETTY CHILD
Mo páistin deas, I did not know
How cold the winter's blast could blow
Into her heart, with what despair
Earth drew her bloom and blossom fair,
How lone a man might come and go
When you were here—how could I know?
How cold the winter's blast could blow
Into her heart, with what despair
Earth drew her bloom and blossom fair,
How lone a man might come and go
When you were here—how could I know?
How could I know, my little child?
When gracious summer looked and smiled,
Soft was the sleeping roses' breath
Who did not know or dream of death.
Like him who stood in glad surprise
At love discovered in your eyes,
That fleeting time so slow could pass
I did not know, mo páistïn deas.
When gracious summer looked and smiled,
Soft was the sleeping roses' breath
Who did not know or dream of death.
Like him who stood in glad surprise
At love discovered in your eyes,
That fleeting time so slow could pass
I did not know, mo páistïn deas.
My pretty child, I did not know
How I had watched you come and go,
How I had listened for your song,
How short your shy caress, how long
Your absence was, till praying I
Looked up to heaven with a cry
To call you back, there saw a star
And knew how far God's gardens are.
How I had watched you come and go,
How I had listened for your song,
How short your shy caress, how long
Your absence was, till praying I
Looked up to heaven with a cry
To call you back, there saw a star
And knew how far God's gardens are.
| The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter | |