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A baby was sleeping,
Its mother was weeping.
A baby was sleeping,
Its mother was weeping.
There came to port last Sunday night
The queerest little craft,
Without an inch of rigging on;
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There came to port last Sunday night
The queerest little craft,
Without an inch of rigging on;
I looked and looked--and laughed.
It seemed so curious that she
Should cross the unknown water,
And moor herself within my room--
My daughter! O my daughter!
He smiles, and sleeps!--sleep on
And smile, thou little, young inheritor
Of a world scarce less young: read more
He smiles, and sleeps!--sleep on
And smile, thou little, young inheritor
Of a world scarce less young: sleep on and smile!
Thine are the hours and days when both are cheering
And innocent!
The morning that my baby came
They found a baby swallow dead,
And saw a something hard read more
The morning that my baby came
They found a baby swallow dead,
And saw a something hard to name
Fly mothlike over baby's bed.
When you fold your hands, Baby Louise!
Your hands like a fairy's, so tiny and fair,
With read more
When you fold your hands, Baby Louise!
Your hands like a fairy's, so tiny and fair,
With a pretty, innocent, saintlike air,
Are you trying to think of some angel-taught prayer
You learned above, Baby Louise.
Suck, baby! suck! mother's love grows by giving:
Drain the sweet founts that only thrive by wasting!
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Suck, baby! suck! mother's love grows by giving:
Drain the sweet founts that only thrive by wasting!
Black manhood comes when riotous guilty living
Hands thee the cup that shall be death in tasting.
How lovely he appears! his little cheeks
In their pure incarnation, vying with
The rose leaves strewn read more
How lovely he appears! his little cheeks
In their pure incarnation, vying with
The rose leaves strewn beneath them.
And his lips, too,
How beautifully parted! No; you shall not
Kiss him; at least not now; he will wake soon--
His hour of midday rest is nearly over.
Lo! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps;
Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps;
She, while read more
Lo! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps;
Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps;
She, while the lovely babe unconscious lies,
Smiles on her slumbering child with pensive eyes.
A tight little bundle of wailing and flannel,
Perplex'd with the newly found fardel of life.
A tight little bundle of wailing and flannel,
Perplex'd with the newly found fardel of life.