They brought him home on his birthday To sleep on his Mother's breast, To be done with the world and its turmoil, And sorrow's acid test. And I fancied he smiled in his slumbers, As if he seemed to know That his Mother's arms were about him, As they were in the long-ago. But then 'twas his earthly Mother, And now 'tis his Mother the Earth Who gathers him up to her bosom, As she did who first gave him birth. Both of the Mothers are tender; But the Earth is the tenderest and best; For the first bore him to a life of suffering, While the last bears him to death's long rest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO WORDSWORTH by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY ON LYNN TERRACE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH AT PARTING by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS ANACREON by ANTIPATER OF SIDON THE BIRDS: THE BUILDING OF CLOUDCUCKOOCITY by ARISTOPHANES TO MRS. PRIESTLEY, WITH SOME DRAWINGS OF BIRDS AND INSECTS by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD MELANCHOLIE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 28 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |