Our Common Mother

tntö thy píitietit hoart, my mot her F.artlï, I come- ti wory child ; I have no cluim, save that thou (jnv'st me bifth, And hast sustnmed me with thy nurture mild. I hnvc stood iip alone Ü16M man y ynars, Kow lot me come und He upon thy fttce, TUI the slow wind8 mesmeric touches pass Above my brain umi all ir h (lirobbing chase : iJito thy bosom tnke these bitter tenrs And let tlioin wem unió tlic innoccíit tíower Only as dew or Heuveu's gcatle showors, Till, quieted and husbtd against thy bvcast, 1 c;iu foiyet to weep, And sink at l?t to sleep- Ixng slcei ind 151.