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 PLANTING OF THE APPLE TREE by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT A PRAYER TO THE WIND by THOMAS CAREW THE V-A-S-E by JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE CONFLICT AND PEACE by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS THE PLAYERS by FRANCIS LAWRENCE BICKLEY THE UNKNOWN GOD by CHARLES GRANGER BLANDEN ASPIRATIONS: 4 by MATHILDE BLIND |