A Mother Showing The Portrait Of Her Child Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BCDCDEDE FGHIDJKJ LMNMNONO PAPAPQPQ RSTSUVPV PWXYZA2B2A2 C2D2LD2C2E2DE2 F2G2A2G2PENE LH2B2H2DI2J2I2 C2K2D B2L2A2M2 J2K2D NN2J2N2 C2N2O2N2F2J2C2J2 DP2DRC2C2J2C2 TC2B2C2HQ2R2Q2 NC2B2C2HC2J2C2 HQ2DC2C2S2DS2 J2HDHDT2J2T2 NOJ2OC2HDH| F M L | A |
| - | |
| - | |
| Living child or pictured cherub | B |
| Ne'er o'ermatched its baby grace | C |
| And the mother moving nearer | D |
| Looked it calmly in the face | C |
| Then with slight and quiet gesture | D |
| And with lips that scarcely smiled | E |
| Said A Portrait of my daughter | D |
| When she was a child | E |
| - | |
| Easy thought was hers to fathom | F |
| Nothing hard her glance to read | G |
| For it seemed to say No praises | H |
| For this little child I need | I |
| If you see I see far better | D |
| And I will not feign to care | J |
| For a stranger's prompt assurance | K |
| That the face is fair | J |
| - | |
| Softly clasped and half extended | L |
| She her dimpled hands doth lay | M |
| So they doubtless placed them saying | N |
| Little one you must not play | M |
| And while yet his work was growing | N |
| This the painter's hand hath shown | O |
| That the little heart was making | N |
| Pictures of its own | O |
| - | |
| Is it warm in that green valley | P |
| Vale of childhood where you dwell | A |
| Is it calm in that green valley | P |
| Round whose bournes such great hills swell | A |
| Are there giants in the valley | P |
| Giants leaving footprints yet | Q |
| Are there angels in the valley | P |
| Tell me I forget | Q |
| - | |
| Answer answer for the lilies | R |
| Little one o'ertop you much | S |
| And the mealy gold within them | T |
| You can scarcely reach to touch | S |
| O how far their aspect differs | U |
| Looking up and looking down | V |
| You look up in that green valley | P |
| Valley of renown | V |
| - | |
| Are there voices in the valley | P |
| Lying near the heavenly gate | W |
| When it opens do the harp strings | X |
| Touched within reverberate | Y |
| When like shooting stars the angels | Z |
| To your couch at nightfall go | A2 |
| Are their swift wings heard to rustle | B2 |
| Tell me for you know | A2 |
| - | |
| Yes you know and you are silent | C2 |
| Not a word shall asking win | D2 |
| Little mouth more sweet than rosebud | L |
| Fast it locks the secret in | D2 |
| Not a glimpse upon your present | C2 |
| You unfold to glad my view | E2 |
| Ah what secrets of your future | D |
| I could tell to you | E2 |
| - | |
| Sunny present thus I read it | F2 |
| By remembrance of my past | G2 |
| Its to day and its to morrow | A2 |
| Are as lifetimes vague and vast | G2 |
| And each face in that green valley | P |
| Takes for you an aspect mild | E |
| And each voice grows soft in saying | N |
| Kiss me little child | E |
| - | |
| As a boon the kiss is granted | L |
| Baby mouth your touch is sweet | H2 |
| Takes the love without the trouble | B2 |
| From those lips that with it meet | H2 |
| Gives the love O pure O tender | D |
| Of the valley where it grows | I2 |
| But the baby heart receiveth | J2 |
| MORE THAN IT BESTOWS | I2 |
| - | |
| Comes the future to the present | C2 |
| Ah she saith too blithe of mood | K2 |
| Why that smile which seems to whisper | D |
| 'I am happy God is good ' | - |
| God is good that truth eternal | B2 |
| Sown for you in happier years | L2 |
| I must tend it in my shadow | A2 |
| Water it with tears | M2 |
| - | |
| Ah sweet present I must lead thee | J2 |
| By a daylight more subdued | K2 |
| There must teach thee low to whisper | D |
| 'I am mournful God is good ' | - |
| Peace thou future clouds are coming | N |
| Stooping from the mountain crest | N2 |
| But that sunshine floods the valley | J2 |
| Let her let her rest | N2 |
| - | |
| Comes the future to the present | C2 |
| Child she saith and wilt thou rest | N2 |
| How long child before thy footsteps | O2 |
| Fret to reach yon cloudy crest | N2 |
| Ah the valley angels guard it | F2 |
| But the heights are brave to see | J2 |
| Looking down were long contentment | C2 |
| Come up child to me | J2 |
| - | |
| So she speaks but do not heed her | D |
| Little maid with wondrous eyes | P2 |
| Not afraid but clear and tender | D |
| Blue and filled with prophecies | R |
| Thou for whom life's veil unlifted | C2 |
| Hangs whom warmest valleys fold | C2 |
| Lift the veil the charm dissolveth | J2 |
| Climb but heights are cold | C2 |
| - | |
| There are buds that fold within them | T |
| Closed and covered from our sight | C2 |
| Many a richly tinted petal | B2 |
| Never looked on by the light | C2 |
| Fain to see their shrouded faces | H |
| Sun and dew are long at strife | Q2 |
| Till at length the sweet buds open | R2 |
| Such a bud is life | Q2 |
| - | |
| When the rose of thine own being | N |
| Shall reveal its central fold | C2 |
| Thou shalt look within and marvel | B2 |
| Fearing what thine eyes behold | C2 |
| What it shows and what it teaches | H |
| Are not things wherewith to part | C2 |
| Thorny rose that always costeth | J2 |
| Beatings at the heart | C2 |
| - | |
| Look in fear for there is dimness | H |
| Ills unshapen float anigh | Q2 |
| Look in awe for this same nature | D |
| Once the Godhead deigned to die | C2 |
| Look in love for He doth love it | C2 |
| And its tale is best of lore | S2 |
| Still humanity grows dearer | D |
| Being learned the more | S2 |
| - | |
| Learn but not the less bethink thee | J2 |
| How that all can mingle tears | H |
| But his joy can none discover | D |
| Save to them that are his peers | H |
| And that they whose lips do utter | D |
| Language such as bards have sung | T2 |
| Lo their speech shall be to many | J2 |
| As an unknown tongue | T2 |
| - | |
| Learn that if to thee the meaning | N |
| Of all other eyes be shown | O |
| Fewer eyes can ever front thee | J2 |
| That are skilled to read thine own | O |
| And that if thy love's deep current | C2 |
| Many another's far outflows | H |
| Then thy heart must take forever | D |
| LESS THAN IT BESTOWS | H |
Jean Ingelow
(1)
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A Mother Showing The Portrait Of Her Child is a poem by Jean Ingelow. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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