Classic and Contemporary Poetry
MY BOY, by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: I had a little bird once Last Line: And wish that I were dead. Alternate Author Name(s): Chandler, Ellen Louise Subject(s): Death - Children; Death - Babies | ||||||||
I HAD a little bird once, But he has flown away. I had a little boy once, But ah, he did not stay. What do they up in Heaven, That Bird and Boy should fly, And leave my home so empty To seek the far-off sky? What do they up in Heaven? -- Perchance the angels sing, And, when they heard that music, My Bird and Boy took wing. The heavenly flowers bloom always, The skies are always bright, And all the little children Play there from morn till night. But do they never weary, And long to go to rest, Like little human children, Upon a mother's breast? My home and arms are empty, My longing heart is sore, Since they who sought the summer Come back to me no more. How softly falls the twilight, -- The sunset fires are out: A wind that comes from Heaven Blows slowly round about. I close my eyes and listen, And presently I hear A small voice through the darkness Sigh, "Mother -- I am near. "Come, take me in, dear mother, And rock me as of old: I used to be so happy Within your tender hold! "There sorrow cannot find me, And pain shall pass me by, -- When you enfold who love me, What danger can come nigh? "So safe I was in Heaven, So bright the shining days! But, from afar, your weeping Disturbed the hymns of praise, "Till the dear Lord and gentle Sent me to soothe your pain, And, if you fain would keep me, He bids me to remain." I kissed his tender eyelids, I laid him on my heart; And yet, when came the dawning, I prayed him to depart. I feared the unknown future, I feared the paths untried, -- How dared I keep my darling When Heaven was opened wide? But, ah, my heart is lonely Since Boy and Bird have fled, -- I hear the silence only, And wish that I were dead. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOST CHILDREN by RANDALL JARRELL THE MOURNER by LOUISE MOREY BOWMAN MELANCHOLY; AN ODE by WILLIAM BROOME SISTERS IN ARMS by AUDRE LORDE A BOTANICAL TROPE by WILLIAM MEREDITH FOR MOHAMMED ZEID OF GAZA, AGE 15 by NAOMI SHIHAB NYE A PAINTED FAN by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON |
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