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Rating: 2.7
Ah me! conceiv'd in sin, and born in sorrow,
A nothing, here to day, but gone to morrow,
Whose mean beginning, blushing can't reveal,
But night and darkness must with shame conceal.
My mother's breeding sickness, I will spare,
Her nine months' weary burden not declare.
To shew her bearing pangs, I should do wrong,
To tell that pain, which can't be told by tongue.
With tears into this world I did arrive;
My mother still did waste, as I did thrive,
Who yet with love and all alacrity,
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Ratnakar Mandlik 28 November 2019
A memorably naughty childhood revisited down the memory lane.
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Susan Williams 23 February 2016
A beautiful if painful description of a Mother- - My mother still did waste, as I did thrive, Who yet with love and all alacrity, Spending was willing to be spent for me.
19 0 Reply
Ratnakar Mandlik 23 February 2016
A beautifully penned touching poems highlighting the motley experiences through which had passed the childhood. Thanks for sharing.
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Gangadharan Nair Pulingat 23 February 2016
The sacrifices and love of motherhood and child's experience so beautiful
2 0 Reply
Edward Kofi Louis 23 February 2016
Birth and growth! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
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6/19/2021 1:02:37 PM #