 | Original poems for my children |  |
THE MOTHER TO HER INFANT.
Slumber, my darling, no danger is near,
Thy mother sits by thee to guard thy repose;
Though the wind roars aloud, not a breath reaches here,
To shake the white curtains which round thee do close:
Then slumber, my darling, and sleep without fear,
Thou art safe from all danger, my dearest, while here.
Thy mother sits by thee to guard thy repose;
Though the wind roars aloud, not a breath reaches here,
To shake the white curtains which round thee do close:
Then slumber, my darling, and sleep without fear,
Thou art safe from all danger, my dearest, while here.
What is it the angels do unto thee say,
When thou dost lie smiling so sweet in thy sleep?
Are they trying, my sweetest, to lure thee away,
And leave me alone in my sorrow to weep?
Oh! sometimes I fancy they whisper thy name,
And would fain bear thee back to the land whence they came.
When thou dost lie smiling so sweet in thy sleep?
Are they trying, my sweetest, to lure thee away,
And leave me alone in my sorrow to weep?
And would fain bear thee back to the land whence they came.
Then never, my darling, when thou growest old,
Forget her who on thy sweet infancy smiled,
To whom thou wert dearer than jewels or gold,
Who studied thy looks and thy wishes, my child,—
Who, when thou didst need her, was never away
In health or in sickness, by night or by day.
Forget her who on thy sweet infancy smiled,
To whom thou wert dearer than jewels or gold,
Who studied thy looks and thy wishes, my child,—
Who, when thou didst need her, was never away
In health or in sickness, by night or by day.
| Original poems for my children | |