Sleep, baby mine, enkerchieft on my bosom, Thy cries they pierce again my bleeding breast; Sleep, baby mine, not long thou'lt have a mother To lull thee fondly in her arms to rest. Baby, why dost thou keep this sad complaining? Long from mine eyes have kindly slumbers fled; Hush, hush, my babe, the night is quickly waning, And I would fain compose my aching head. Poor wayward wretch! and who will heed thy weeping, When soon an outcast on the world thou'lt be? Who then will soothe thee, when thy mother's sleeping In her low grave of shame and infamy? Sleep, baby mine--to-morrow I must leave thee, And I would snatch an interval of rest: Sleep these last moments ere the laws bereave thee, For never more thou'lt press a mother's breast. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE KINGS by LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY COCK-CROW by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS S. JOHN: THE DISCIPLE, WHOM JESUS LOVED by JOSEPH BEAUMONT HE WILL GIVE ME POWER by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE THE LITTLE PEOPLE OF THE SNOW by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. IN EXTREME AGE by EDWARD CARPENTER TRIBUTE TO ONE WHO FORBIDS IT by HELEN FERGUSON CAUKIN |