Hope of my heart, in thy cradle reposing, Spare her who bore thee and brought thee to life; Tired out and weary she sits by thy cradle, To sing thee to sleep counts nothing too wearing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BATTLE HYMN OF THE RUSSIAN REPUBLIC by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE HILL WIFE: HOUSE FEAR by ROBERT FROST THE LAST CHRYSANTHEMUM by THOMAS HARDY YOU ON THE TOWER by THOMAS HARDY CORONATION by HELEN MARIA HUNT FISKE JACKSON IN THE CHURCHYARD AT CAMBRIDGE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: HARRY WILMANS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |