Sonnet XIX. to a Friend, Who Asked How I Felt When the Nurse First Presented my Infant to Me
Charles! my slow heart was only sad, when first
I scanned that face of feeble infancy;
For dimly on my thoughtful spirit burst
All I had been, and all my babe might be!
But when I saw it on its Mother’s arm,
And hanging at her bosom (she the while
Bent o’er its features with a tearful smile),
Then I was thrilled and melted, and most warm
Impressed a Father’s kiss: and all beguiled
Of dark remembrance, and presageful fear,
I seemed to see an Angel’s form appear—
'Twas even thine, beloved Woman mild!
So for the Mother’s sake the Child was dear,
And dearer was the Mother for the Child.
