The Mother and Child

A Fragment.

When the warm sun sinks to rest, In a dream it lingers long, Leaves his warmth on like a nest, For a song without a song.

For round the evening tune that’s sung, The mother bears the child, Her heart is meeting, but yet is young, Even when the world is wild.

Then the dreams attain to flight, And beneath that lonesome sky, While looking down from farthest height, Her gentle eyes bless them—my.

So love transcends among the streams, In those bright hours of tears, When night awakens at heart’s beams, Through all our dreams appears!

• Robert Southey