I wait his return at even As the rose light tints the west, While a little head with flaxen curls Nestles fondly against my breast. A tiny life -- pure as the blossoms That grow by the wayside -- wild, Ah! the priceless treasure in my arms For they enfold his child. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INVOCATION [TO LOVE] by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN WHO WALKS WITH BEAUTY by DAVID MORTON TO A GENTLEMAN & LADY ON THE DEATH ... CHILD NAMED AVIS by PHILLIS WHEATLEY A POEM OF SPRING by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS CARMEN SYLVA by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS |