Classic Poem

Weaning the Baby

Her tears are very near to-day,
There's sorrow in her eyes,
For they have ordered her away
Whene'er the baby cries.
There's little beauty in the sun
However fair the day be,
For now the mother has begun
The weaning of the baby.

No more upon her gentle breast
That little face may lie,
No more that little nose be pressed
Against her food supply;
No more by night, no more by day,
That wondrous pleasure may be —
This shadow falls across the way,
The weaning of the baby.

Oh, you may smile, but mother sighs,
And now the hours are sad.
She sees the look of pained surprise
In eyes that once were glad,
And in her throat a lump comes up
That's big enough to throttle,
Because her lovely babe must sup
Her dinner from a bottle.

Now bottles can't sing lullabies
When tender babies dine,
Or read the love in little eyes
When eagerly they shine.
And so she sadly says to me:
" I'll miss her fond caresses,
The cuddling ways which used to be,
Her tugging at my dresses.

" I'll miss her cry for me at night
And all her squeals of glee,
Her smile of welcome and delight
When she discovered me;
I'll miss the tie that holds me near
And long will every day be,
I'm sorry that the time is here
For me to wean the baby. " English