When John the Baptist was so young That he had not yet learned to speak A syllable of his native tongue, The voice must have been shrill and weak Wherewith his mother's heart was wrung. When Jesus' fists uncurled to clutch The shavings in his father's beard, Before he learned to like to touch The screws and nails his mother feared, Small wandering hands had hurt her much. When Judas was so frail a child He sucked and slept, and little more, -- His mother, patient still, beguiled The baby she must needs adore. He shaped a kiss: all day she smiled. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEDICATION TO THE LATER SONNETS TO URANIA by GEORGE SANTAYANA MARIANNE MOORE by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE DAFT DAYS by ROBERT FERGUSSON THE FUNERAL TREE OF THE SOKOKIS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE DESTINY OF GENIUS by MARIA ABDY PSALM 102 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |