WHEN I was almost forty I had a daughter whose name was Golden Bells. Now it is just a year since she was born; She is learning to sit and cannot yet talk. Ashamed, -- to find that I have not a sage's heart: I cannot resist vulgar thoughts and feelings. Henceforward I am tied to things outside myself: My only reward, -- the pleasure I am getting now. If I am spared the grief of her dying young, Then I shall have the trouble of getting her married. My plan for retiring and going back to the hills Must now be postponed for fifteen years! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A DOG by JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY ORANGE BUDS BY MAIL FROM FLORIDA by WALT WHITMAN FEATHERS ON THE GRASS by LAURA FRANCES ALEXANDER THE CONTRAST; THE STORMY SIDE by LEVI BISHOP IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: A CONVENT WITHOUT GOD by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE SONG OF CAPTIVE ISRAEL by MARY ELIZABETH BROOKS A CONFESSION by JULIET H. CAMPBELL TO THE QUEENES MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTIE by ELIZABETH (TANFIELD) CARY EPISTLE TO THE LORD HENRY HOWARD, ONE OF HIS MAJESTY'S PRIVY COUNCIL by SAMUEL DANIEL |