THE mother will not turn, who thinks she hears Her nursling's speech first grow articulate; But breathless with averted eyes elate She sits, with open lips and open ears, That it may call her twice. 'Mid doubts and fears Thus oft my soul has hearkened; till the song, A central moan for days, at length found tongue, And the sweet music welled and the sweet tears. But now, whatever while the soul is fain To list that wonted murmur, as it were The speech-bound sea-shell's low importunate strain,-- No breath of song, thy voice alone is there, O bitterly beloved! and all her gain Is but the pang of unpermitted prayer. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DISCORDANTS: 1 by CONRAD AIKEN THE POOL by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR BEN JONSON ENTERTAINS A MAN FROM STRATFORD by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE FALL OF JERUSALEM by ALFRED TENNYSON BETWEEN WAND AND WELT by MARGARET AHO TRAVELLER BY NIGHT, SELECTION by JOANNA BAILLIE SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 14. 'I LOVE THEE' by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |