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Poem by Charles Lamb


O hush, my little baby brother;
 Sleep, my love, upon my knee.
What though, dear child, we've lost our mother;
 That can never trouble thee.

You are but ten weeks old to-morrow;
 What can you know of our loss?
The house is full enough of sorrow.
 Little baby, don't be cross.

Peace, cry not so, my dearest love;
 Hush, my baby-bird, lie still.Ч
He's quiet now, he does not move,
 Fast asleep is little Will.

My only solace, only joy,
 Since the sad day I lost my mother,
Is nursing her own Willy boy,
 My little orphan brother.

Charles Lamb

Charles Lamb's other poems:
  1. Incorrect Speaking
  2. Love, Death, and Reputation
  3. The Two Boys
  4. Beauty and the Beast
  5. Blindness

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