My old nurse's son to sea ran away--
At a 'Norwester,' or gale from the South,
I've heard the poor woman tremblingly say
The sound 'brought her heart up into her mouth!'
I, little prattler, crouched down at her feet,
Would stop aghast in my innocent play,
Wondering, will she be able to eat,
Supposing her heart in her mouth shall _stay_?
Strange are our minds and their workings, I'm sure
Studying them might drive Solomon wild:
At the loud knocking, I ran to the door
With a sudden thought of that nurse and child.
I saw her rocking herself in her chair,
While the mad wind blew 'neath the stormy sky;
I saw the little child watching her there,
And knew, with a pang, that the child was I.
(Strange are the pangs, that, when life is most fair,
With not a regret to shadow the scene,
Seize on the heart with a sudden despair,
From a passing mem'ry of what _has been_.)
And while to the door I ran with a start,
Frighten'd to death at the knocking without,
I was thinking of my old nurse's heart,
And _not_ of what all the noise was about!
Four men without peering sharply within;
One girl within looking out at the men;
Silence at first--you might have heard a pin
Drop on the doorsteps--silence--and then,
'What do you want?' cried the girl.
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