When I was twenty inches long,
I could not hear the thrush's song;
The radiance of the morning skies
Was most displeasing to my eyes.
For loving looks, caressing words,
I cared no more than sun or birds;
But I could bite my mother's breast,
And that made up for all the rest.
The New-born Baby's Song
Frances Darwin Cornford
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Poem topics: mother, song, sun, long, hear, morning, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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