HIS MOTHER'S WAY.
57
One sees her baby's dimple hold
More love than you can measure. . . . Then
Nights darken down on heads of gold,
Till wind and frost try wandering men!
More love than you can measure. . . . Then
Nights darken down on heads of gold,
Till wind and frost try wandering men!
But there are prisons made for such,
Where the strong roof shuts out the snow;
And bread (that you would scorn to touch)
Is served them there? I know, I know.
Where the strong roof shuts out the snow;
And bread (that you would scorn to touch)
Is served them there? I know, I know.
Ah! while you have your books, your ease,
Your lamp-light leisure, jests, and wine,
Fierce outside whispers, if you please,
Moan, each: "These things are also mine!"
Your lamp-light leisure, jests, and wine,
Fierce outside whispers, if you please,
Moan, each: "These things are also mine!"
