Nature the gentlest mother is, <br />Impatient of no child, <br />The feeblest of the waywardest. <br />Her admonition mild <br /> <br />In forest and the hill <br />By traveller be heard, <br />Restraining rampant squirrel <br />Or too impetuous bird. <br /> <br />How fair her conversation <br />A summer afternoon, <br />Her household her assembly; <br />And when the sun go down, <br /> <br />Her voice among the aisles <br />Incite the timid prayer <br />Of the minutest cricket, <br />The most unworthy flower. <br /> <br />When all the children sleep, <br />She turns as long away <br />As will suffice tolight her lamps, <br />Then bending from the sky <br /> <br />With infinite affection <br />An infiniter care, <br />Her golden finger on her lip, <br />Wills silence everywhere.<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/nature-the-gentlest-mother-is/
