CHILDREN are what the mothers are. No fondest father's fondest care Can fashion so the infant heart As those creative beams that dart, With all their hopes and fears, upon The cradle of a sleeping son. His startled eyes with wonder see A father near him on his knee, Who wishes all the while to trace The mother in his future face; But 't is to her alone uprise His waking arms; to her those eyes Open with joy and not surprise. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FAIREST THING IN MORTAL EYES by CHARLES D'ORLEANS TO THE SAME PURPOSE by THOMAS TRAHERNE VERSES FOR CHILDREN: MAPLE TREE by ZEDA K. AILES WHAT DICK AN' I DID by WILLIAM BARNES LADY OF MYSTERY by G. W. BLOEMENDAL UNTEACHABLE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |