Page:Poems, in two volumes (IA poemsintwovolume00word).pdf/123
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
111
Across the waters I am come,
And I have left a Babe at home:
A long, long way of land and sea!
Come to me—I'm no enemy:
I am the same who at thy side
Sate yesterday, and made a nest
For thee, sweet Baby!—thou hast tried,
Thou know'st, the pillow of my breast:
Good, good art thou; alas! to me
Far more than I can be to thee.
And I have left a Babe at home:
A long, long way of land and sea!
Come to me—I'm no enemy:
I am the same who at thy side
Sate yesterday, and made a nest
For thee, sweet Baby!—thou hast tried,
Thou know'st, the pillow of my breast:
Good, good art thou; alas! to me
Far more than I can be to thee.
Here little Darling dost thou lie;
An Infant Thou, a Mother I!
Mine wilt thou be, thou hast no fears;
Mine art thou—spite of these my tears.
Alas! before I left the spot,
My Baby and its dwelling-place;
The Nurse said to me, "Tears should not
Be shed upon an Infant's face,
It was unlucky"—no, no, no;
No truth is in them who say so!
An Infant Thou, a Mother I!
Mine wilt thou be, thou hast no fears;
Mine art thou—spite of these my tears.
Alas! before I left the spot,
My Baby and its dwelling-place;
The Nurse said to me, "Tears should not
Be shed upon an Infant's face,
It was unlucky"—no, no, no;
No truth is in them who say so!