A Poem for you..

A Mother to her Waking Infant

Now in thy dazzling half-oped eye,

Thy curled nose and lip awry

Thy up-hoist arms and noddling head,

And little chin with chrystal spread,

Poor helpless thing! what do I see,

That I should sing of thee?

From thy poor tongue no accents come,

Which can but rub thy toothless gum;

Small understanding boasts thy face,

Thy shapeless limbs nor step nor grace;

A few short words thy feats may tell,

And yet I love thee well.

When sudden wakes the bitter shriek,

And redder swells thy little cheek;

When rattled keys thy woes beguile,

And through the wet eye gleams the smile,

Still for thy weakly self is spent

Thy little silly plaint.

.......

Perhaps when time shall add a few

Short years to thee, thou'lt love me too,

Then wilt thou through life's weary way

Become my sure and cheering stay:

Wilt care for me, and be my hold,

When I am weak and old.

Thou'lt listen to my lengthened tale,

And pity me when I am frail -

But see, the sweepy spinning fly

Upon the window takes thine eye.

Go to thy little senseless play-

Thou dost not heed my lay.

Joanna Baillie

(1762-1851)