IF thy work be holding dimpled cheeks of babies to thy breast, Fashioning small garments where the needle moves to inward tune, Stitching dainty scallops for a little rounded wrist, Or knitting a silk sheathing for feet as soft as roseleaves, Count thyself a sister of the gentle Judean woman, Mother of a Saviour! How knowest thou the outcome Of this beauteous bud of home? With thee lies the unfolding. Make thy garden fragrant with tender self-denying. With love purged pure by prayer, woo the opening blossom. Thine a holy business set thee by the Father; All its pains rewarded by gifts of honeyed kisses, And angel looks that babies bring from heaven, Clasping of soft arms, and murmuring of lovers Innocent as birds in the dewy boughs of Maytime. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITAPH: FOR A VIRGIN LADY by COUNTEE CULLEN IDYLL 1. LAMENT FOR ADONIS by BION NIGHT AND DAY by SIDNEY LANIER FAIRIES' SONG by THOMAS RANDOLPH THE FLIGHT OF THE GEESE by CHARLES GEORGE DOUGLAS ROBERTS SEASONS (1) by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI SIR JOHN FRANKLIN; ON THE CENTOTAPH IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY by ALFRED TENNYSON |