Responsibilities
A SONG FROM 'THE PLAYER QUEEN'
MY mother dandled me and sang,
'How young it is, how young!'
And made a golden cradle
That on a willow swung.
'He went away,' my mother sang,
'When I was brought to bed,'
And all the while her needle pulled
The gold and silver thread.
She pulled the thread and bit the thread
And made a golden gown,
And wept because she had dreamt that I
Was born to wear a crown.
'When she was got,' my mother sang,
I heard a sea-mew cry,
And saw a flake of the yellow foam
That dropped upon my thigh.'
How therefore could she help but braid
The gold into my hair,
And dream that I should carry
The golden top of care?
Old London Bridge - Only for Poets
HEARTY WELCOME & HAVE A NICE STAY
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment