Sleep, baby mine, enkerchieft on my bosom,
Thy cries they pierce again my bleeding breast;
Sleep, baby mine, not long thou'lt have a mother
To lull thee fondly in her arms to rest.
Baby, why dost thou keep this sad complaining?
Long from mine eyes have kindly slumbers fled;
Hush, hush, my babe, the night is quickly waning,
And I would fain compose my aching head.
Poor wayward wretch! and who will heed thy weeping,
When soon an outcast on the world thou'lt be?
Who then will soothe thee, when thy mother's sleeping
In her low grave of shame and infamy?
Sleep, baby mine—Tomorrow I must leave thee,
And I would snatch an interval of rest:
Sleep these last moments ere the laws bereave thee,
For never more thou'lt press a mother's breast.
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How very sad, for a Mother to be saying Goodbye to her tiny infant. It's a touching poem, written by a man who could perhaps empathise in some way as the feelings are deep and true.
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this is soo sad, and soo brilliant! the subtle and strong feeling of misery is heightened, only to be confirmed later on. i loved your choice of vocabulary too. great write...
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...wow... so deep. this is incerdibly sad...
I like this a lot. Very very moving. -
What a beautiful way this was told of such a tradgy, so very sad and heart felt...
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wow to think even then this was a possibility that a mother could actually be executed
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