Songs of Womanhood

Songs of Womanhood
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Книга "Songs of Womanhood", автором которой является Laurence Alma-Tadema, представляет собой захватывающую работу в жанре Зарубежная старинная литература. В этом произведении автор рассказывает увлекательную историю, которая не оставит равнодушными читателей.

Автор мастерски воссоздает атмосферу напряженности и интриги, погружая читателя в мир загадок и тайн, который скрывается за хрупкой поверхностью обыденности. С прекрасным чувством языка и виртуозностью сюжетного развития, Laurence Alma-Tadema позволяет читателю погрузиться в сложные эмоциональные переживания героев и проникнуться их судьбами. Alma-Tadema настолько живо и точно передает неповторимые нюансы человеческой психологии, что каждая страница книги становится путешествием в глубины человеческой души.

"Songs of Womanhood" - это не только захватывающая история, но и искусство, проникнутое глубокими мыслями и философскими размышлениями. Это произведение призвано вызвать у читателя эмоциональные отклики, задуматься о важных жизненных вопросах и открыть новые горизонты восприятия мира.

#Зарубежная литература #Зарубежная поэзия #Зарубежная классика #Зарубежная старинная литература

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A great number of the following verses are already known to readers of The Herb o' Grace, and of the little reprint, Songs of Childhood. As these pamphlets, however, did not reach the public, it has been thought advisable to re-issue the verses in book-form, together with three or four more collected from various reviews, and a number that are here printed for the first time.

L.A.T.

CHILDHOOD

King Baby

King Baby on his throne
Sits reigning O, sits reigning O!
King Baby on his throne
Sits reigning all alone.
His throne is Mother's knee,
So tender O, so tender O!
His throne is Mother's knee,
Where none may sit but he.
His crown it is of gold,
So curly O, so curly O!
His crown it is of gold,
In shining tendrils rolled.
His kingdom is my heart,
So loyal O, so loyal O!
His kingdom is my heart,
His own in every part.
Divine are all his laws,
So simple O, so simple O!
Divine are all his laws,
With Love for end and cause.
King Baby on his throne
Sits reigning O, sits reigning O!
King Baby on his throne
Sits reigning all alone.

A Blessing for the Blessed

When the sun has left the hill-top,
And the daisy-fringe is furled,
When the birds from wood and meadow
In their hidden nests are curled,
Then I think of all the babies
That are sleeping in the world…
There are babies in the high lands
And babies in the low,
There are pale ones wrapped in furry skins
On the margin of the snow,
And brown ones naked in the isles,
Where all the spices grow.
And some are in the palace
On a white and downy bed,
And some are in the garret
With a clout beneath their head,
And some are on the cold hard earth,
Whose mothers have no bread.
O little men and women,
Dear flowers yet unblown!
O little kings and beggars
Of the pageant yet unshown!
Sleep soft and dream pale dreams now,
To-morrow is your own…
Though some shall walk in darkness,
And others in the light,
Though some shall smile and others weep
In the silence of the night,
When Life has touched with many hues
Your souls now clear and white:
God save you, little children!
And make your eyes to see
His finger pointing in the dark
Whatever you may be,
Till one and all, through Life and Death,
Pass to Eternity…

To Raoul Bouchard

Dear were your kisses, baby boy,
Your weight upon my arm:
Gay were your tuneful cries of joy
As I danced you round the farm:
And sweet your softness when we lay
Laughing and cooing in the hay.
The summer sun will shine again,
Old arms will mow and reap;
There'll be new flowers on the plain,
New lambs among the sheep;
But never in this world of men
Shall we two be as we were then.
Your feet have touched the ground, my bird,
And now your wondering eyes
Will gaze no more as if they heard
A seraph in the skies:
A little boy, with leap and shout
You'll wildly chase your dreams about.
But when you are a man, soft thing,
And life has made you stern,
May we who watched you in your spring
Still feel our babe return
In hallowed moments, such as shine
When thought or deed makes man divine.

To-day and To-morrow

Little hands – what will you grasp
When you leave this nest, O?
Little arms – what will you clasp
Against that tender breast, O?
Cling to mother's finger, babe,
Throw sweet arms about me!
Here no noons may linger, babe,
Soon you'll love without me.
Little toes – where will you turn,
East or south or west, O?
Little feet – what sands that burn
Will you soon have pressed, O?
Lie on mother's knee, my own,
Dance your heels about me!
Apples leave the tree, my own,
Soon you'll live without me…

The Nesting Hour

Robin-friend has gone to bed,
Little wing to hide his head —
Mother's bird must slumber too
Just as baby Robins do —
When the stars begin to rise,
Birds and babies close their eyes.

The Little Sister

Bath-time:

Baby's got no legs at all,
They're soft and pinky, crumpled things;
If he stood up he'd only fall:
But then, you see, he's used to wings.

Bed-time:

Baby baby bye,
Close your little eye!
When the dark begins to creep,
Tiny-wees must go to sleep.
Lammy lammy lie,
I am seven, I;
Little boys must sleep and wait,
If they want their bed-time late.
Fidgy fidgy fie,
There's no need to cry!
Soon you'll never dress in white,
But sit up working half the night…

A Twilight Song

Baby moon, 'tis time for bed,
Owlet leaves his nest now;
Hide your little horned head
In the twilight west now;
When you're old and round and bright,
You shall stay and shine all night.
Baby girl is going too
In her bed to creep now;
She is little, just like you,
Time it is to sleep now;
When she's old and tired and wise,
She'll be glad to close her eyes.

A Wintry Lullaby

Blow, wind, blow,
The fields are white with snow —
Sleeping daisies, deep and warm,
Cannot hear the Winter storm.
Freeze, air, freeze,
The rime is on the trees —
Sleeping buds within the bough,
Dream of spring and cuckoos now.
Turn, earth, turn,
The flames of life do burn —
Sleeping girl, my baby dove,
Knows no world but mother's love.

The Warm Cradle

Hush, baby, hush,
Sweet robin's in the bush —
All the birdies lie so quiet,
Won't my little dicky try it?
Hush, baby, hush.
Sleep, baby, sleep,
The lammies love the sheep —
Woolly babes all nestle cosy,
Lie, my lambkin, warm and rosy,
Sleep, baby, sleep.
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