My poem for the day is by Dorothy Wordsworth (1771 - 1855), William's sister. It evokes beautifully what it's like to be awake on a winter's night with a small child who won't go to sleep.
The sunset was beautiful this evening, golden and dramatic, it really was nature's paintbrush sweeping across the sky. I hope you like the poem.
The Cottager to her Infant
The days are cold, the nights are long,
The North wind sings a doleful song;
Then hush again upon my breast;
All merry things are now at rest,
Save thee, my pretty love!
The kitten sleeps upon the hearth,
The crickets long have ceased their mirth;
There's nothing stirring in the house
Save one wee, hungry, nibbling mouse,
Then why so busy thou?
Nay! Start not at that sparkling light,
'Tis but the moon that shines so bright
On the window-pane bedropped with rain:
Then, little darling, sleep again,
And wake when it is day!
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