Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO HIS SON, by                    
First Line: My little son, who yet dost nothing know
Last Line: His grace, your mother is, who nurses you.


MY little son, who yet dost nothing know,
This thy first day of life I celebrate.
Come, see the world which floods of wealth o'erflow,
Honours, and goods of value, rare and great;
Come, see long-wished-for peace on France await;
Come, Francis, see your king and mine renowned,
Who keeps our France in safe and noble state;
Come, see the world where all good things abound.

Jan, little Jan, see the world's countless worth,
The azure sky, the stars supremely bright,
The golden orb of day, the vast round carth,
Loud sounding rivers, ocean infinite,
Free air, and wandering clouds in heaven's height,
The sweet glad music of the feathered choir,
Fishes and beasts, that streams and plains delight;
Come, see whatever wonders you desire.

But, little child, can you a welcome claim
On earth, where you no contribution bring?
Like a poor little naked worm you came,
Without a rag around your limbs to cling;
No gold you have, or land, or anything.
To father and to mother all you brought
Was--all you have--trouble and sorrowing.
Poor little child, you come possessed of nought.

Yet claim to highest honours, nothing bate,
My little child, for boundless treasures meant.
You come into the world as rich and great
As mightiest king, as proudly eminent
Your heritage, no less than heaven's extent;
Your servants are the angels, pure and true,
Your treasurer is God omnipotent,
His grace, your mother is, who nurses you.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net