Poem by Bryan Waller Procter

The New-Born Baby's Song

When I was twenty inches long,
I could not hear the thrush's song;
The radiance of the morning skies
Was most displeasing to my eyes.

For loving looks, caressing words,
I cared no more than sun or birds;
But I could bite my mother's breast,
And that made up for all the rest. 

1. The Hunter’s Song
2. The Blood Horse
3. Pre-Existence
4. Sit Down, Sad Soul
5. A Petition to Time

Print

1875 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version