"'T WAS midnight; not a sound was heard Within the" -- "Papa, won't 'ou 'ook An' see my pooty 'ittle house? I wis' 'ou wouldn't wead 'ou book --" "Within the palace where the king Upon his couch in anguish lay --" "Papa, pa-pa, I wis' 'ou 'd tum An' have a 'ittle tonty play --" "No gentle hand was there to bring The cooling draught, or cool his brow; His courtiers and his pages gone --" "Tum, papa, tum; I want 'ou now --" Down goes the book with needless force, And with expression far from mild; With sullen air and clouded brow I seat myself beside my child. Her little trusting eyes of blue With mute surprise gaze in my face, As if in its expression stern Reproof and censure she could trace. Anon her little bosom heaves, Her rosy lips begin to curl; And with a quivering chin she sobs, "Papa don't love his 'ittle dirl!" King, palace, book, are all forgot; My arms are round my darling thrown, -- The thundercloud has burst, and lo! Tears fall and mingle with her own. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CLOISTER by ISAAC ROSENBERG A RENUNCIATION by EDWARD DE VERE KARMA by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON SISTER HELEN by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI WRITTEN AT AN INN AT HENLEY by WILLIAM SHENSTONE ADVICE TO A LADY [IN AUTUMN] by PHILIP DORMER STANHOPE SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 19. THE SOUTHERN PASSION by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |