THE NURSES
When, with a pain he desires to explain to the multitude, Baby howls
Himself black in the face, toothlessly striving to curse;
And the six-month-old Mother begins to enquire of the Gods if it may be
Tummy, or Temper, or Pins—what does the adequate Nurse?
See! At one turn of her head the trouble is guessed; and, thereafter
She juggles (unscared by his throes) with drops of hot water and spoons,
Till the hiccoughs are broken by smiles, and the smiles pucker up into laughter,
And he lies o’er her shoulder and crows, and she, as she nurses him, croons!
When, at the head of the grade, tumultuous out of the cutting,