 | Egypt |  |
32
THE MAN CHILD
Mother, my mother, thou who once didst tend me
Nurse me, lull me, on thy patient breast,
Oh, might it be that now thou couldst befriend me
And give me rest!
Nurse me, lull me, on thy patient breast,
Oh, might it be that now thou couldst befriend me
And give me rest!
Oh, might it be that I could kneel before thee,
Knowing thee now, as ever, sure to bless,
The passion of thy pity would restore me
To happiness.
Knowing thee now, as ever, sure to bless,
The passion of thy pity would restore me
To happiness.
The tracks are mingled and the clues are tangled,
My wandering feet in mire and clay are fast,
The chime of life is fiercely jarred and jangled
By demon blast.
My wandering feet in mire and clay are fast,
33
By demon blast.
Mother, my mother, could I hide my weeping
Upon thy bosom, thou wouldst calm this wild
Tempestuous terror! I should soon be sleeping,
And wake, a child.
Upon thy bosom, thou wouldst calm this wild
Tempestuous terror! I should soon be sleeping,
And wake, a child.
| Egypt | |