IT was her wont when, tired of play, He to her bosom crept, With golden hair in disarray, To kiss him as he slept. And still her plea would be but this: "I shall not wake him with a kiss!" So heavenly-sweet his sleeping face-- So beautiful and bright, I know the angels lift the lace To kiss my boy good-night! For still he smiles in dreams of bliss: "How should I wake him with a kiss?" So did his mother say; and when God whispered His sweet will, She only moaned: "He sleeps!" and then, Kneeling, she kissed him still. And weeping, murmured only this: "I can not wake him with a kiss!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MOURNING-GARMENT: THE SHEPHERD'S WIFE'S SONG by ROBERT GREENE THE LINCOLN HOME by ZELLA ACKERMAN A MOOD by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH ENGLAND'S PRAYER by WILLIAM BLUNDELL IRON HEEL by ANNE MILLAY BREMER ELEGY by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES |