SITTING, one fair, bright spring morning, On my house's threshold idly, Gazing rapturously toward heaven, While the sunbeam's gold glowed widely, Comes a woman toward me shuffling, Dark her face with care and sorrow, Lightly a boy baby nestles In the crook of her lean elbow. "Why, where found you this fine fellow? Good dame, let me see him, prithee; Such bright glances round him throwing, Yet no strength for walking hath he?" "'T is the child of my poor Lena; She from Herr Count's service creeping, When deserted by the noble, Now in grass-grown grave lies sleeping. "He nor father has nor mother; Starve we both must, I well foreknow. Such a burden when one's aged Brings a sea of care and sorrow. "To the keen winds I expose him, From the cold protect him, never, Hoping that he'll be death's victim; But he lives on, ever, ever!" Then she grasps the little creature, Like a bundle roughly shaking; But he lifts his lips for kisses, Into shouts and laughter breaking. While aloft his arms he tosses, Showing how tall he is growing. Twitching strangely are the dame's eyes, Tear-drops from their lids are flowing. Now once more, with heavy sighing, Burden on her back she's raising, While amid her woe and hatred Still the goddess Love is gazing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHURCH FLOORE by GEORGE HERBERT THE AKOND [OR, AKHOND] OF SWAT by EDWARD LEAR THE BABIE by JEREMIAH EAMES RANKIN THE LOW-DOWN WHITE by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE THE NUN AT COURT by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |