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Sat, 26 Sep 2009
THE MOTHER TO HER INFANT, by Thomas Miller


 THE MOTHER TO HER INFANT

This Lullaby Rhyme is by Thomas Miller,
the basket maker who attracted some notice as a writer for and about children.


Slumber, my darling, no danger is near,
     Thy mother sits by thee to guard thy repose;
Though the wind roars aloud, not a breath reaches here
     To shake the white curtains which round thee do close:
Then slumber, my darling, and sleep without fear,
     Thou art safe from all danger, my dearest, while here.




What is it the angels do unto thee say
     When thou does lie smiling so sweet in thy sleep?
Are they trying , my sweetest, to lure thee away,
And leave me alone in my sorrow to weep?
Oh, sometimes I fancy they whisper thy name,
     And would fain bear thee back to the land whence they came.

Slumber, my darling, no danger is near
Then never, my darling, when thou growest old
     Forget her who on thy sweet infancy smiled,
To whom thou wert dearer than jewels and gold,
     Who studied thy looks and thy wishes, my child,
Who, when thou didst need her, was never away,
     In health or in sickness, by night or by day.

     

Perfection I think, thank you Thomas Miller.
Posted 15:48

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