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ROBERT PINSKY: The English poet Frances Cornford distills something
basic about the idea of motherhood in a short poem so compressed and
indelible that it reminds me of William Blake. Cornford makes her meaning
plain in eight lines about the idea of mother. Here's her poem, "The
New-Born Baby's Song":
THE NEW-BORN BABY'S SONG
When I was twenty inches long,
I could not hear the thrush's song;
The radiance of the morning skies
Was most displeasing to my eyes.
For loving looks, caressing words,
I cared no more than sun or birds;
But I could bite my mother's breast,
And that made up for all the rest.
I wish you an affectionate and undistracted Mother's Day.
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