A MOTHER heard our infant cries, And folded us with fond embrace, And when we woke, our infant eyes Were opened on a mother's face. Our wishes she did make her own, Her bosom fed and pillowed too, Answering each start or fitful moan With trembling pulses fond and true. Then knowledge was a thing untaught: Heaven's charity, a daily dole, Stole in inaudibly, and wrought Its gentle bonds about the soul. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 63 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE WIDOW AT WINDSOR by RUDYARD KIPLING IMPROMPTU ON CHARLES II (2) by JOHN WILMOT THE PROMETHEUS VINCTUS OF AESCHYLUS by AESCHYLUS ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 6. HYMN TO CHEERFULNESS by MARK AKENSIDE EIGHT VOLUNTEERS by LANSING C. BAILEY PSALM 19. [THE HEAVENS ABOVE AND THE LAW WITHIN] by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |