CHARLES, my slow heart was only sad, when first I scanned that face of feeble infancy; For dimly on my thoughtful spirit burst All I had been, and all my babe might be! But when I saw it on its Mother's arm, And hanging at her bosom (she the while Bent o'er its features with a tearful smile), Then I was thrilled and melted, and most warm Impressed a Father's kiss; and all beguiled Of dark remembrance, and presageful fear, I seemed to see an Angel's form appear-- 'Twas even thine, beloved Woman mild! So for the Mother's sake the Child was dear, And dearer was the Mother for the Child. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...POOR DEVIL! by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET CONTRA MORTEM: THE TREES by HAYDEN CARRUTH PURSUIT OF THE WORD by ROBERT FROST GOOD-BYE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SUGGESTED BY THE COVER OF A VOLUME OF KEATS'S POEMS by AMY LOWELL HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 10 by EZRA POUND |