The Nursing Sister

1 
Our sister sayeth such and such,
 And we must bow to her behests;
 Our sister toileth overmuch,
 Our little maid that hath no breasts. 
2 
A field untilled, a web unwove,
 A flower withheld from sun or bee,
 An alien in the courts of Love,
 And—teacher unto such as we! 
3 
We love her, but we laugh the while,
 We laugh, but sobs are mixed with laughter;
 Our sister hath no time to smile,
 She knows not what must follow after. 
4 
Wind of the South, arise and blow,
 From beds of spice thy locks shake free;
 Breathe on her heart that she may know,
 Breathe on her eyes that she may see. 
5 
Alas! we vex her with our mirth,
 And maze her with most tender scorn,
 Who stands beside the gates of Birth,
 Herself a child—a child unborn! 
6 
Our sister sayeth such and such,
 And we must bow to her behests;
 Our sister toileth overmuch,
 Our little maid that hath no breasts. 

Choose another poem