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Backseat Driver

(4,651 posts)
4. Then there's Henry Wordsworth Longfellow
Sat Sep 23, 2023, 08:58 AM
Sep 2023

As a fond mother, when the day is o'er,
Leads by the hand her little child to bed,
Half willing, half reluctant to be led,
And leave his broken playthings on the floor,
Still gazing at them through the open door,
Nor wholly reassured and comforted
By promises of others in their stead,
Which, though more splendid, may not please him more;
So Nature deals with us, and takes away
Our playthings one by one, and by the hand
Leads us to rest so gently, that we go
Scarce knowing if we wish to go or stay,
Being too full of sleep to understand
How far the unknown transcends the what we know.
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I can't remember being tucked in; I'm an orphan now, still trying to perform motherly duties with at least some gentle self-charity over those always busy nightowls that steal our sleep.

Recommendations

0 members have recommended this reply (displayed in chronological order):

Love this poem. I Think of it often Walleye Sep 2023 #1
I love this! Alliepoo Sep 2023 #2
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock zanana1 Sep 2023 #3
Then there's Henry Wordsworth Longfellow Backseat Driver Sep 2023 #4
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