Husha, O husha, And lull-lullaby; No mother in Russia Is prouder than I. You stumble no longer, Soon you will run; And you will grow stronger Than Samson, my son. You will be famous, Your thoughts will go wide; Isaiah and Amos Will walk at your side. Your words will be graven In metal and stone; And the Great Ones in Heaven Will envy my son. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OUT WHERE THE WEST BEGINS by ARTHUR CHAPMAN FIRST OR LAST (SONG) by THOMAS HARDY LUCY (2) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH GOLDEN HILL by HAMILTON FISH ARMSTRONG ON F----- & S----- by WILLIAM BLAKE AN ELEGY ON THE UNTIMELY DEATH OF THOMAS AYLEWORTH, SLAIN AT CROYDON by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |