Alaric Alexander Watts

(1797-1864 / England)

The First-Born - Poem by Alaric Alexander Watts

Never did music sink into my soul
So ‘silver sweet,’ as when thy first weak wail
On my 'rapt ear in doubtful murmurs stole,
Thou child of love and promise!—What a tale
Of hopes and fears, of gladness and of gloom,
Hung on that slender filament of sound!
Life's guileless pleasures, and its griefs profound,
Seemed mingling in thy horoscope of doom.
Thy bark is launched, and lifted is thy sail
Upon the weltering billows of the world;
But oh! may winds far gentler than have hurled
My struggling vessel on, for thee prevail;—
Or, if thy voyage must be rough, may'st thou
Soon 'scape the storm and be—as blest as I am now!

Comments about The First-Born by Alaric Alexander Watts

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Wednesday, September 22, 2010

[Report Error]