Hardly in any common tender wise, With petting talk, light lips on her dear cheek, The love I mean my child will bear to speak, Loth of its own less image for disguise; But liefer will it floutingly devise, Using a favourite jester's mimic pique, Prompt, idle, by-names with their sense to seek, And takes for language laughing ironies. But she, as when some foreign tongue is heard, Familiar on our lips and closely known, We feel the every purport of each word When ignorant ears reach empty sound alone, So knows the core within each merry gird, So gives back such a meaning in her own. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...APPRECIATION by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE WOOING by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE TWINS by HENRY SAMBROOKE LEIGH SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 20 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI WINTER WIZARDRY by LAURA S. BECK |