My mother used to seat me by her side, And contemplation giving way before My furious search, would yield her hand and chide Me thus: "Today, in beauty at the Door Of God, turns to the world this last good-by, And God slows down His time while They deplore Grave doings of the earth's mad sons -- But my Tremendous Mite has pushed them from the floor." And I, delighted with those sober eyes On me, would clutch the hand, and separate The fingers one by one, and bounce the prize Upon my head until the wide mouth smiled, And I was caught up, laughing at the great Thumb in my fist, and -- "Sh-h my sleepy child." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ANGLER'S SONG by WILLIAM BASSE VERSES SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY ALEXANDER SELKIRK by WILLIAM COWPER TO LUCASTA, [ON] GOING TO THE WARS by RICHARD LOVELACE TRAVEL by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY PER PACEM AD LUCEM by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER FOUR LITTLE FOXES by LEW SARETT A COWBOY'S HOPELESS LOVE by JAMES BARTON ADAMS |