THE MOTHER AND CHILD.
BY MRS. HEMANS.
Where art thou, Boy?—Heaven, heaven! the babe is playing
Even on the margin of the dizzy steep!
Haste—hush! a breath, my agony betraying,
And he is gone!—beneath him rolls the deep!
Could I but keep the bursting cry suppress'd,
And win him back in silence to my breast!
Thou'rt safe!—Thou com'st, with smiles my fond arms meeting,
Blest, fearless child!—I, I have tasted death!
Nearer! that I may feel thy warm heart beating!
And see thy bright hair floating in my breath!
Nearer! to still my bosom's yearning pain,—
I clasp thee now, mine own! thou'rt here again!
