I've heart-disease: Mortal, the doctor says, Tira-lan-lere! My mother dear. And I soon shall start Her games entralling; For I hear my beating heart: It's mamma calling! They laugh in the street At my ways indiscreet, La-liri-lun! Tipsy one! ... It's because no part Of me escapes the appalling Sound of my beating heart— That's mamma calling! To the fields I go To sob in the evening glow. Tira-li-ru! That's stupid, too. But the sun's rays dart Like a heart that's falling And I hear my beating heart: It's mamma calling. Ah! If little Genevieve Would my bursting heart receive, La-lura-li! If only she! She is lively, fair, and smart, I, alas, am sadly crawling— And I hear my beating heart: It's mamma calling. Good in the world? None, Save the heart of the setting sun. Tira-lan-lere! My mother dear. And I soon shall start Her games enthralling ... Beat, beat, beat, my heart: Mamma, are you calling? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JAWEH AND ALLAH BATTLE by ALLEN GINSBERG TAPS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO JOHN BROWN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON PRAYER AT SUNRISE by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON CORPORATE ENTITY by ARCHIBALD MACLEISH THE LONESOME CHILD by KATHERINE MANSFIELD TO A MAN WORKING HIS WAY THROUGH THE CROWD by MARIANNE MOORE |