Is there, when the winds are singing <br />In the happy summer time, - <br />When the raptured air is ringing <br />With Earth's music heavenward springing <br /> <br />Forest chirp, and village chime, - <br />Is there, of the sounds that float <br />Unsighingly, a single note <br />Half so sweet, and clear, and wild, <br />As the laughter of a child? <br /> <br />Listen! and be now delighted: <br />Morn hath touched her golden strings; <br />Earth and Sky their vows have plighted; <br />Life and Light are reunited <br /> <br />Amid countless carollings; <br />Yet, delicious as they are, <br />There's a sound that's sweeter far, - <br />One that makes the heart rejoice <br />More than all, - the human voice! <br /> <br />Organ finer, deeper, clearer, <br />Though it be a stranger's tone, - <br />Than the winds or waters dearer, <br />More enchanting to the hearer, <br /> <br />For it answereth to his own. <br />But, of all its witching words, <br />Those are sweetest, bubbling wild <br />Through the laugher of a child. <br /> <br />Harmonies from time-touched towers, <br />Haunted strains from rivulets, <br />Hum of bees among the flowers, <br />Rustling leaves, and silver showers, - <br /> <br />These, erelong, the ear forgets; <br />But in mine there is a sound <br />Ringing on the whole year round, - <br />Heart-deep laughter that I heard <br />Ere my child could speak a word. <br /> <br />Ah! 'twas heard by ear far purer, <br />Fondlier formed to catch the strain, - <br />Ear of one whose love is surer, - <br />Hers, the mother, the endurer <br /> <br />Of the deepest share of pain; <br />Here the deepest bliss to treasure <br />Memories of that cry of peasure; <br />Hers to hoard, a lifetime after, <br />Echoes of that infant laughter. <br /> <br />'Tis a mother's large affection <br />Hears with a mysterious sense, - <br />Breathings that evade detection, <br />Whisper faint, and fine inflection, <br /> <br />Thrill in her with power intense. <br />Chidhood's honeyed words untaught <br />Hiveth she in loving thought, - <br />Tones that never thence depart; <br />For she listens - with her heart.<br /><br />Samuel Laman Blanchard<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-mother-s-hope/
