Baby dear! and shall we sever?
All your own
Mother is, and yours alone.
Father goes; he cares not, he;
Comes and now from other shores,
Baby dear, your deity
Woos he and adores.
Never heed him! he was never
Yours!
My one bliss, and would you lonely
Leave my heart,
Thus from mother’s lap to part?
O what is it, charm of charms,
Seek your lips incarnadine,
Stretching forth your little arms
With that cry divine ?
Enchantment! oh, art thou not only
Mine?
Fret not so, nor tear my raiment;
Heed not thou,
Softly though he flatters now.
Woods nor whispers thinks she sweet,
Mother, to thy vague murmurs’:
Men, the world, the roaring street
Father, he prefers.
Hers you are, ‘gainst every claimant
Hers!
Leave him! Not a kiss deserves he,
Lonely here
To forsake us, baby dear.
Toils and troubles, all the week,
They possess him, toils like tares.
For the rose of baby’s cheek
Not a thought he cares.
‘Tis for them his heart preserves he
Theirs!
Laughing, see, has baby known him;
With small hands,
Stretching out, his beard demands.
Oh, his flattery well I know.
Sweet he comes as April showers.
Wait, poor prattler, he will go
False as April flowers.
No! my joy, we cannot own him
Ours!
From his arms to keep you? Never!
Baby dear,
From his arms, your native sphere,
Home from labour comes he tired.
You and I, his only bliss,
Crown him, crown our king desired.
To adore and kiss,
You and I, his slaves forever
His!
(Manmohan Ghose)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, Man Poems, World Poems, Mind Poems, Joy & Excitement Poems, Flowers Poems, Thought & Thinking Poems, Home Poems, Happiness Poems, Art Poems, Mothers PoemsBased on Keywords: incarnadine, prattler, claimant