VII “—­I cannot help it; ill intent 75
I’ve none, my pretty Innocent! 
I weep—­I know they do thee wrong,
These tears—­and my poor idle tongue. 
Oh, what a kiss was that! my cheek
How cold it is! but thou art good; So 80
Thine eyes are on me—­they would speak,
I think, to help me if they could. [11]
Blessings upon that soft, warm face, [12]
My heart again is in its place!

VIII

“While thou art mine, my little Love, 85
This cannot be a sorrowful grove;
Contentment, hope, and mother’s glee, [13]
I seem to find them all in thee:  [14]
Here’s grass to play with, here are flowers;
I’ll call thee by my darling’s name; 90
Thou hast, I think, a look of ours,
Thy features seem to me the same;
His little sister thou shalt be;
And, when once more my home I see,
I’ll tell him many tales of Thee.” 95

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1: 

1807.

  This Mother ...  MS.]

[Variant 2: 

1845.

  ...  English ... 1807.]

[Variant 3: 

1827.

  ... did ... 1807.]

[Variant 4: 

1845.

  Once did I see her clasp the Child about,
  And take it to herself; and I, next day,
  Wish’d in my native tongue to fashion out
  Such things as she unto this Child might say:  1807.

  Once did I see her take with fond embrace
  This Infant to herself; and I, next day,
  Endeavoured in my native tongue to trace
  Such things as she unto the Child might say:  1820.

  Once, having seen her take with fond embrace
  This Infant to herself, I framed a lay,
  Endeavouring, in my native tongue, to trace 1827.]

[Variant 5: 

1845.

  And thus, from what I knew, had heard, and guess’d, 1807.]

[Variant 6: 

1820.

  ’Tis gone—­forgotten—­let me do
  My best—­there was a smile or two, 1807.]

[Variant 7: 

1827.

  ... sweet ... 1807.]

[Variant 8: 

1836.

  For they confound me:  as it is,
  I have forgot those smiles of his. 1807.

  For they bewilder me—­even now
  His smiles are lost,—­I know not how! 1820.

  By those bewildering glances crost
  In which the light of his is lost. [a] 1827.]

[Variant 9: 

1827.

  From France across the Ocean came; 1807.]

[Variant 10: 

1845.

  My Darling, she is not to me
  What thou art! though I love her well:  1807.