They brought him home on his birthday To sleep on his Mother's breast, To be done with the world and its turmoil, And sorrow's acid test. And I fancied he smiled in his slumbers, As if he seemed to know That his Mother's arms were about him, As they were in the long-ago. But then 'twas his earthly Mother, And now 'tis his Mother the Earth Who gathers him up to her bosom, As she did who first gave him birth. Both of the Mothers are tender; But the Earth is the tenderest and best; For the first bore him to a life of suffering, While the last bears him to death's long rest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FANCY IN NUBIBUS; OR, THE POET IN THE CLOUDS by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE IN THE SHADOWS: MY EPITAPH by DAVID GRAY (1838-1861) NUPTIAL SLEEP by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI BALLADE OF EGREGIOUSNESS by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS CASTOR AND POLYDEUCES by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE SONG: THE DEATH OF THE ROSE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT BRIER-ROSE by HJALMAR HJORTH BOYESEN |