Читать книгу By the Sea, and Other Verses - Baily Hannah Lavinia - Страница 11

O mother, from thy home beyond the stars

Hast thou not known the yearning of thy child

For thy sweet love? Hast thou not heard her wild

And piteous moaning for thy soft caress?

Felt her heart's aching for the tenderness

And the low patience of thy loving voice?

Hast thou not seen her 'mid life's toils and jars,

Pant as a bird behind its prison bars,