Its balmy lips the infant blest Relaxing from its mother's breast, How sweet it heaves the happy sigh Of innocent satiety! And such my infant's latest sigh! O tell, rude stone! the passer by, That here the pretty babe doth lie, Death sang to sleep with Lullaby. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHOIR INVISIBLE by MARY ANN EVANS BREAK OF DAY IN THE TRENCHES by ISAAC ROSENBERG THE OLD CAMP; WRITTEN IN A ROMAN FORTIFICATION IN BAVARIA by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 21. THE WORLD'S MARRIAGE MORN by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: 6. OF PATIENCE by WILLIAM BASSE A CHILD'S FANCY by MATHILDE BLIND ECHOES OF SPRING: 1 by MATHILDE BLIND THE ELDER WOMAN'S SONG: 2, FR. KING LEAR'S WIFE by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |