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Careless of let or hindrance, she went on,
Nor shrunk nor started at the many thorns
Strew'd in her toilsome path; still looking forth
To others' weal, forgetful it would seem,
Perchance in heart despairing of her own.
The friend, the help, the comforter of all,
No voice was heard so cheerful, nor a step
So bounding and so light. 'Twas wonderful!
For I have seen her, when her polish'd arm
Has clasp'd the nurseling, with her face conceal'd
Bent fondly o'er; and I have mark'd each limb
To boast a fine expansion, as if thrill'd
With the deep feelings of maternal love
And aching tenderness, too highly wrought
For happy souls to cherish! they delight
In painless joys, and, on the infant's cheek,
Rounded and glowing with a finer bloom
Than the wild-rose, careless imprint the kiss,
Which sorrow always sanctions by a prayer.
They in the radiance of its glancing eyes
Nor shrunk nor started at the many thorns
Strew'd in her toilsome path; still looking forth
To others' weal, forgetful it would seem,
Perchance in heart despairing of her own.
The friend, the help, the comforter of all,
No voice was heard so cheerful, nor a step
So bounding and so light. 'Twas wonderful!
For I have seen her, when her polish'd arm
Has clasp'd the nurseling, with her face conceal'd
Bent fondly o'er; and I have mark'd each limb
To boast a fine expansion, as if thrill'd
With the deep feelings of maternal love
And aching tenderness, too highly wrought
For happy souls to cherish! they delight
In painless joys, and, on the infant's cheek,
Rounded and glowing with a finer bloom
Than the wild-rose, careless imprint the kiss,
Which sorrow always sanctions by a prayer.
They in the radiance of its glancing eyes
