Читать книгу The Children's Garland from the Best Poets - Various - Страница 46

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Mary-Ann was alone with her baby in arms,

In her house with the trees overhead,

For her husband was out in the night and the storms,

In his business a-toiling for bread;

And she, as the wind in the elm-heads did roar,

Did grieve to think he was all night out of door.

And her kinsfolk and neighbours did say of her child

(Under the lofty elm-tree),

That a prettier never did babble and smile

Up a-top of a proud mother's knee;

And his mother did toss him, and kiss him, and call

Him her darling, and life, and her hope and her all.

But she found in the evening the child was not well

(Under the gloomy elm-tree),

And she felt she could give all the world for to tell

Of a truth what his ailing could be;

And she thought on him last in her prayers at night,

And she look'd at him last as she put out the light.

And she found him grow worse in the dead of the night

(Under the gloomy elm-tree),

And she press'd him against her warm bosom so tight,

And she rock'd him so sorrowfully;

And there, in his anguish, a-nestling he lay,

Till his struggles grew weak, and his cries died away.

And the moon was a-shining down into the place

(Under the gloomy elm-tree),

And his mother could see that his lips and his face

Were as white as clean ashes could be;

And her tongue was a-tied, and her still heart did swell

Till her senses came back with the first tear that fell.

Never more can she feel his warm face in her breast

(Under the leafy elm-tree),

For his eyes are a-shut, and his hands are at rest,

And he's now from his pain a-set free;

For his soul we do know is to heaven a-fled,

Where no pain is a-known, and no tears are a-shed.

W. Barnes