A Poet's Harvest Home Being One Hundred Short Poems: By William Bell Scott ... With an Aftermath of Twenty Short Poems |
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A Poet's Harvest Home | ||
[I.]
From home did then the infant come
When it came here?
Do we return unto that home
Beyond the day we disappear?
Then this fair Earth is but the place
Where goal to goal
We run a race,
And Nature, dame with sun-browned face,
Is but step-mother to the soul.
When it came here?
Do we return unto that home
Beyond the day we disappear?
Then this fair Earth is but the place
Where goal to goal
We run a race,
And Nature, dame with sun-browned face,
Is but step-mother to the soul.
Step-mother, dear full-breasted queen!
When the true mother hides unseen,
The naked suckling to thy heart
Thou pressest: never would he part
Could he but remain, I ween!
When the true mother hides unseen,
The naked suckling to thy heart
Thou pressest: never would he part
Could he but remain, I ween!
A Poet's Harvest Home | ||