Hush, my darling; hush, my darling; Hark, thy mother sings a lay; She, who bore thee; she, who clasps thee, Her only joy, that takes her many griefs away! Soon thou wilt grow and leave thy mother's roof; Soon thou to manhood wilt attain. Happy may thy lot be then! Happy may thy lot be then! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN THE HOLY NATIVITY [OF OUR LORD GOD]; AS SUNG BY SHEPHERDS by RICHARD CRASHAW H. BAPTISME (2) by GEORGE HERBERT ON THE DEATH OF A METAPHYSICIAN by GEORGE SANTAYANA HOLYHEAD, SEPTEMBER 25, 1727 by JONATHAN SWIFT SOME SWEET DAY by LEWIS J. BATES A FOREIGN TONGUE by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH |