HALF the long night, my children, I lie waking Till the dawn rustles in the old thorn tree, Then dream of you, while the red morn is breaking Beyond that broad salt sea; In this poor room, where many a time the measure Of your low, regular breathing in mine ear, Brought to my listening heart a keener pleasure Than any music clear; Here, where your soft heads in my bosom laying, Ye nestled, with your hearts to my heart pressed; And I have felt your little fingers playing, All night, around my breast. How could ye leave me? Did ye think a mother Was natured like a bird in summer's prime, Who leaves her young brood, hopeful of another In the next glad spring time? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE JOBHOLDER by DAVID IGNATOW TO THE MEMORY OF INEZ MILHOLLAND by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE AWAKENING by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE POET; SONNET by AMY LOWELL DOMESDAY BOOK: CHARLES WARREN, THE SHERIFF by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TO THE PEACOCK OF FRANCE by MARIANNE MOORE |