Sonett-Forum

It was her first sweet child, her heart's delight :
And, though we all foresaw his early doom.
We kept the fearful secret out of sight ;
We saw the canker, but she kiss'd the bloom.
And yet it might not be : we could not brook
To vex her happy heart with vague alarms.
To blanch with fear her fond intrepid look.
Or send a thrill through those encircling anus.
She smiled upon him, waking or at rest :
She could not dream her little child would die
She toss'd him fondly with an upward eye :
She seem'd as buoyant as a summer spray,
That dances with a blossom on its breast,
Nor knows how soon it will be borne away.