Rampolli by George MacDonald
page 90 of 162 (55%)
page 90 of 162 (55%)
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Darkness hides the goal of Psyche's mission;
For the eyes that tears so often gall Reach not to the summit of completion Where illusion's vaporous veil doth fall! FROM CLAUDIUS. THE MOTHER BY THE CRADLE CONTENTMENT _THE MOTHER BY THE CRADLE_. Sleep, baby boy, sleep sweet, secure; Thy father's very miniature! That art thou, though thy father goes And says that thou hast not his nose. This very moment here was he, His face o'er thine did pose And said--Much has he sure of me, But no, 'tis not my nose. I think myself, it is too small, But it is _his_ nose after all; For if thy nose his nose be not, Whence came the nose that thou hast got? |
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