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Austin Henry Dobson - The Cradle
0 Views • Nov 07, 2014
Description
How lovingly had drest
With all her would-be-mother’s wit
That little rosy nest!
How longingly she ’d hung on it!—
It sometimes seemed, she said,
There lay beneath its coverlet
A little sleeping head.
He came at last, the tiny guest,
Ere bleak December fled;
That rosy nest he never prest…
Her coffin was his bed.
Austin Henry Dobson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-cradle/
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