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ADDRESS TO MY INFANT DAUGHTER, On being reminded, that she was a
Month old, on thai Day. - Hast thou then survived, Mild offspring of infirm
humanity, Meek Infant ! among all forlornest things The most forlorn, one life of
that bright ...
... then Have scored thine age, and punctually timed Thine infant history, on the
minds of those Who might have wandered with thee. — Mother's love, Nor less
than Mother's love in other breasts, Will, among us warm clad and warmly
This heap of earth o'ergrown with moss, Which close beside the Thorn you see,
So fresh in all its beauteous dyes, Is like an infant's grave in size, As like as like
can be : But never, never any where, An infant's grave was half so fair. Now
I've heard, the moss is spotted red With drops of that poor infant's blood : But kill a
new-born infant thus, I do not think she could ! Some say, if to the Pond you go,
And fix on it a steady view, The shadow of a babe you trace, A baby and a baby's
His nerves, his sinews seemed to melt ; Through all his iron frame was felt A
gentle, a relaxing power ! Each fibre of his frame was weak ; Weak all the animal
within ; But, in its helplessness, grew mild And gentle as an infant child, An infant
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the kitten of the filling leaves bp[y willam words worth
My favorite is "Solitary Reaper". When I first read it, I fell in love with the poem. It's like Wordsworth wrote it for me only.
I always feel understood and totally embraced everytime I read this poem and walk away with a full heart.