The Poem
| stanza | text | variant | footnote | line number |
| Once in a lonely hamlet I sojourned In which a Lady driven from France did dwell; The big and lesser griefs with which she mourned, In friendship she to me would often tell. | ||||
| This Lady, dwelling upon British ground, Where she was childless, daily would repair To a poor neighbouring cottage; as I found, For sake of a young Child whose home was there. | [1] / [2] [3] | 5 | ||
| Once having seen her clasp with fond embrace This Child, I chanted to myself a lay, Endeavouring, in our English tongue, to trace Such things as she unto the Babe might say: And thus, from what I heard and knew, or guessed, My song the workings of her heart expressed. | [4] [5] | 10 | ||
| I | "Dear Babe, thou daughter of another, One moment let me be thy mother! An infant's face and looks are thine And sure a mother's heart is mine: Thy own dear mother's far away, At labour in the harvest field: Thy little sister is at play;— What warmth, what comfort would it yield To my poor heart, if thou wouldst be One little hour a child to me! | 15 20 | ||
| II | "Across the waters I am come, And I have left a babe at home: A long, long way of land and sea! Come to me—I'm no enemy: I am the same who at thy side Sate yesterday, and made a nest For thee, sweet Baby!—thou hast tried, Thou know'st the pillow of my breast; Good, good art thou:—alas! to me Far more than I can be to thee. | 25 30 | ||
| III | "Here, little Darling, dost thou lie; An infant thou, a mother I! Mine wilt thou be, thou hast no fears; Mine art thou—spite of these my tears. Alas! before I left the spot, My baby and its dwelling-place; The nurse said to me, 'Tears should not Be shed upon an infant's face, It was unlucky'—no, no, no; No truth is in them who say so! | 35 40 | ||
| IV | "My own dear Little-one will sigh, Sweet Babe! and they will let him die. 'He pines,' they'll say, 'it is his doom, And you may see his hour is come.' Oh! had he but thy cheerful smiles, Limbs stout as thine, and lips as gay, Thy looks, thy cunning, and thy wiles, And countenance like a summer's day, They would have hopes of him;—and then I should behold his face again! | 45 50 | ||
| V | "'Tis gone—like dreams that we forget; There was a smile or two—yet—yet I can remember them, I see The smiles, worth all the world to me. Dear Baby! I must lay thee down; Thou troublest me with strange alarms; Smiles hast thou, bright ones of thy own; I cannot keep thee in my arms; For they confound me;—where—where is That last, that sweetest smile of his? | [6] [7] [8] | 55 60 | |
| VI | "Oh! how I love thee!—we will stay Together here this one half day. My sister's child, who bears my name, From France to sheltering England came; She with her mother crossed the sea; The babe and mother near me dwell: Yet does my yearning heart to thee Turn rather, though I love her well: Rest, little Stranger, rest thee here! Never was any child more dear! | [9] [10] | 65 70 | |
| VII | "—I cannot help it; ill intent I've none, my pretty Innocent! I weep—I know they do thee wrong, These tears—and my poor idle tongue. Oh, what a kiss was that! my cheek How cold it is! but thou art good; So Thine eyes are on me—they would speak, I think, to help me if they could. Blessings upon that soft, warm face, My heart again is in its place! | [11] [12] | 75 80 | |
| VIII | "While thou art mine, my little Love, This cannot be a sorrowful grove; Contentment, hope, and mother's glee, I seem to find them all in thee: Here's grass to play with, here are flowers; I'll call thee by my darling's name; Thou hast, I think, a look of ours, Thy features seem to me the same; His little sister thou shalt be; And, when once more my home I see, I'll tell him many tales of Thee." [Contents 1802] [Main Contents] | [13] [14] | 85 90 95 |
| 1807 | |
| This Mother ... | MS. |
This Mother ...
| 1845 | |
| ... English ... | 1807 |
... English ...
| 1827 | |
| ... did ... | 1807 |
... did ...
| 1845 | |
| Once did I see her clasp the Child about, And take it to herself; and I, next day, Wish'd in my native tongue to fashion out Such things as she unto this Child might say: | 1807 |
| Once did I see her take with fond embrace This Infant to herself; and I, next day, Endeavoured in my native tongue to trace Such things as she unto the Child might say: | 1820 |
| Once, having seen her take with fond embrace This Infant to herself, I framed a lay, Endeavouring, in my native tongue, to trace | 1827 |
Once did I see her clasp the Child about,
And take it to herself; and I, next day,
Wish'd in my native tongue to fashion out
Such things as she unto this Child might say:
Once did I see her take with fond embrace
This Infant to herself; and I, next day,
Endeavoured in my native tongue to trace
Such things as she unto the Child might say:
Once, having seen her take with fond embrace
This Infant to herself, I framed a lay,
Endeavouring, in my native tongue, to trace
| 1845 | |
| And thus, from what I knew, had heard, and guess'd, | 1807 |
And thus, from what I knew, had heard, and guess'd,
| 1820 | |
| 'Tis gone—forgotten—let me do My best—there was a smile or two, | 1807 |
'Tis gone—forgotten—let me do
My best—there was a smile or two,
| 1827 | |
| ... sweet ... | 1807 |
... sweet ...
| 1836 | |
| For they confound me: as it is, I have forgot those smiles of his. | 1807 |
| For they bewilder me—even now His smiles are lost,—I know not how! | 1820 |
| [By] those bewildering glances crost In which the light of his is lost[a]. | 1827 |
For they confound me: as it is,
I have forgot those smiles of his.
For they bewilder me—even now
His smiles are lost,—I know not how!
[By] those bewildering glances crost
In which the light of his is lost[a].
| 1827 | |
| From France across the Ocean came; | 1807 |
From France across the Ocean came;
| 1845 | |
| My Darling, she is not to me What thou art! though I love her well: | 1807 |
| But to my heart she cannot be | 1836 |
My Darling, she is not to me
What thou art! though I love her well:
But to my heart she cannot be
| 1807 | |
| And I grow happy while I speak, Kiss, kiss me, Baby, thou art good. | MS. |
And I grow happy while I speak,
Kiss, kiss me, Baby, thou art good.
| 1820 | |
| ... that quiet face, | 1807 |
... that quiet face,
| 1807 | |
| A Joy, a Comforter thou art; Sunshine and pleasure to my heart; And love and hope and mother's glee, | MS. |
A Joy, a Comforter thou art;
Sunshine and pleasure to my heart;
And love and hope and mother's glee,
| 1807 | |
| My yearnings are allayed by thee, My heaviness is turned to glee. | MS. |
My yearnings are allayed by thee,
My heaviness is turned to glee.
In a letter to Barron Field (24th Oct. 1828), Wordsworth says that his substitution of the text of 1827 for that of 1807, was due to the objections of Coleridge.—Ed.
[Contents 1802]
[Main Contents]