XIII.
No sweeter pleasure can this life supply
Than what my darling children daily bring
To me, well wearied of that noisy thing
We call society: without a sigh—
Nay, gladly—I would cast ambition by,
Content to hear their eager questioning
(The chirping of young birds that cannot sing),
To weigh for them the words of my reply,
And righteously instruct them—I should rest
Like the worn ship in harbour there below,
Which, safe from struggling on the Ocean's breast,
Floats in the silent water—what a glow
The setting sun casts on her tricolor crest!
She hears far off waves toss and tempests blow.
Jardin Marengo, Algiers: January 28, 1855.
