ON OVERHEARING A LITTLE CHILD (A VISITOR) SAYING
'MAMMA' IN THE NEXT ROOM.
Hark! through the wall it comes! and to my ear
It sounds the sweetest of all silvery tones,
So soft, yet syllabled distinct and clear,
'Mamma!'--and happy she the name who owns!
Nor would I all suppress this starting tear,
Which blinds me, while, that infant's voice I hear!
Say it again, fair child; I like it well,
Although I sit alone, within my room,
Like hermit-hearted man within his cell.
It wakens Reminiscence, like a bell;
And summons up a vanished Form most dear,
Which, long years since, I laid within the tomb!
Strange, that a simple sound should reach so deep,
And flood my heart with thoughts, and make me weep!