A Mother's breast:
Safe refuge from her childish fears,
From childish troubles, childish tears,
Mists that enshroud her dawning years!
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The baby's start in life must be one of being held in loving arms and given comfort when hungry, dirty, or in distress. Then slowly life changes and while Mother's arms still hold with love, the child must deal with life's pains and discomfort by himself.... yet we hope his beginning defines his end- -that of love
.......so true...home is bliss...enjoyed this wonderful write...
This poem was set to music, and our girls' ensemble sang it in high school in the late 50s. Does anyone remember this. I thought Ned Rorem was the composer, but I can't substantiate this