In a musing frame of mind, Half in earnest, half inclined To indulge in quiet jest (Which befits my nature best), Softly I in accents mild Called unto my eldest child, Who, with shout of boyish glee, Came and perched upon my knee. Almost six years have flown by Since that first and lusty cry Which announced unto the morn That another soul was born. When the Infinite, Divine, Blest me with this boy of mine, And that time in memory's sway Seems to me like yesterday. And those eyes, both large and brown, Question me as I look down, Wondering what I will say, Why I called them from their play. Oh, they know not what I see In their depths of purity, I can see the mother's smile Reproduced in them awhile. Scarcely conscious that I spoke, For those eyes strange thoughts awoke, I this question asked him now, As I stroked his noble brow: "Tell me, little brown-eyed lad, If another child we had As a playmate for you here, Would you like a sister dear?" Not a second did he wait, Nor the least bit hesitate, Like a flash upon a wire Came this voice of Love's desire, And it seemed as though it stole From my breast and inner soul The same thought which came to me As he climbed upon my knee. "It would be nice," he sweetly said, A sublime light his face o'erspread, "If I could have my mamma dear When she was just a girlie here, I'd like it awf'lly, awf'lly well, I'm sure I would," and I could tell By that sweet, gentle, loving tone Deceit to him is yet unknown. Then I kissed this little elf, Mimic of my better self, Bade him run out-doors and play With his brother bright and gay, And I heard the mother croon To her babe a restful tune, And though God has blest me thrice, I think myself,—it would be nice. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHITE NOCTURNE by CONRAD AIKEN THE FIDDLING WOOD by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET THE SAVING WAY by HAYDEN CARRUTH AFTER WRITING A POEM by DAVID IGNATOW TO WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON YOUR WORLD by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |