I am the faith of little lives That make my thoughts their own. The spoken word, perhaps half heard, Rests not with me alone, But into circles widening ever shall have grown. I am the joy of little hearts, And who more proud should be? They love to rest upon my breast And stand beside my knee: Like cherubs of the masters old, they turn their eyes to me. I am the hope of little souls, And who should be more brave? From reefs ahead that all hearts dread The mother-love must save, For else my little ones may sink beneath life's stormy wave. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAVALIER TUNES: BOOT AND SADDLE by ROBERT BROWNING THE CHARACTER OF A GOOD PARSON by GEOFFREY CHAUCER AN INTERVIEW WITH MILES STANDISH by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL WILD SWANS by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE KANSAS EMIGRANTS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE LAST MAN: MIDNIGHT HYMN by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |