THE mother will not turn, who thinks she hears Her nursling's speech first grow articulate; But breathless with averted eyes elate She sits, with open lips and open ears, That it may call her twice. 'Mid doubts and fears Thus oft my soul has hearkened; till the song, A central moan for days, at length found tongue, And the sweet music welled and the sweet tears. But now, whatever while the soul is fain To list that wonted murmur, as it were The speech-bound sea-shell's low importunate strain,-- No breath of song, thy voice alone is there, O bitterly beloved! and all her gain Is but the pang of unpermitted prayer. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE POOR by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS LATE LEAVES by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR THE MARTYR; INDICATIVE OF PASSION OF PEOPLES APRIL 15, 1865 by HERMAN MELVILLE THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF THE OLD GREY MARE by MOTHER GOOSE HUGH SELWYN MAUBERLEY: 4 by EZRA POUND BEHIND TIME by ALEXANDER ANDERSON |