SING, I pray, a little song, <br /> Mother dear! <br />Neither sad nor very long: <br />It is for a little maid, <br />Golden-tressed Adelaide! <br />Therefore let it suit a merry, merry ear, <br /> Mother dear! <br /> <br />Let it be a merry strain, <br /> Mother dear! <br />Shunning e’en the thought of pain: <br />For our gentle child will weep, <br />If the theme be dark and deep; <br />And we will not draw a single, single tear, <br /> Mother dear! <br /> <br />Childhood should be all divine, <br /> Mother dear! <br />And like an endless summer shine; <br />Gay as Edward’s shouts and cries, <br />Bright as Agnes’ azure eyes: <br />Therefore, bid thy song be merry:—dost thou hear, <br /> Mother dear?<br /><br />Barry Cornwall<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/golden-tressed-adelaide/
