Since first my little one lay on my breast I never needed such a second good, Nor felt a void left in my motherhood She filled not always to the utterest. The summer linnet, by glad yearnings pressed, Builds room enough to house a callow brood: I prayed not for another child--nor could; My solitary bird had my heart's nest. But she is cause that any baby thing If it but smile, is one of mine in truth, And every child becomes my natural joy: And, if my heart gives all youth fostering, Her sister, brother, seems the girl or boy: My darling makes me mother to their youth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MAD WOMAN'S SONG by KAREN SWENSON AT CASTERBRIDGE FAIR: 2. FORMER BEAUTIES by THOMAS HARDY I GREET THEE by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS THE MODERN TIPPLING PHILOSOPHERS by JAMES HAY BEATTIE THE KING OF NORMANDY by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER SWEET WEARINESS by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH MARY QUAYLE; THE CURATE'S STORY by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN IN SLEEP by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON SCENES FROM THE MAGICO PRODIGIOSO by PEDRO CALDERON DE LA BARCA |