LIKE a sick child that knoweth not His mother while she blesses, And droppeth on his burning brow The coolness of her kisses; And turns his fevered eyes around-- "My mother, where's my mother?" As if such tender words and looks Could come from any other. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SUN'S TRAVELS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE FORSAKEN by C. HAMILTON AIDE ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 14. THE COMPLAINT by MARK AKENSIDE AN EPITAPH, ON A FOOLISH BOASTER by PHILIP AYRES EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 12. LIFE FOR LOVE by PHILIP AYRES ANNIVERSARIUM BAPTISMI (1) by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |