IT was her first sweet child, her heart's delight: And, though we all foresaw his early doom, We kept the fearful secret out of sight; We saw the canker, but she kiss'd the bloom. And yet it might not be: we could not brook To vex her happy heart with vague alarms, To blanch with fear her fond intrepid look, Or send a thrill through those encircling arms. She smil'd upon him, waking or at rest: She could not dream her little child would die: She toss'd him fondly with an upward eye: She seem'd as buoyant as a summer spray, That dances with a blossom on its breast, Nor knows how soon it will be borne away. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VISIONS: 4. A ROSE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) IN THE PINK' by SIEGFRIED SASSOON EPISTLES ON THE CHARACTER AND CONDITION OF WOMEN: 3 by LUCY AIKEN THE POET'S SHIELD by ARCHILOCHUS URANIA; THE WOMAN IN THE MOON: THE THIRD CANTO, OR FULL MOON by WILLIAM BASSE |