My Children

Dear buds of flesh and blood,

So dear, so dear to me,

I dread the thoughts that dwell

Upon the years to be.

More kind the early blight

Than are the ripening suns;

To blossom is to fall,

My sweet, unfolding ones.

"Only the children's hearts

Go down, unhurt, to rest!"

I hear the voice, and hold

You closer to my breast.