To a Little Invisible Being
Anna Lætitia Barbauld
1743 to 1825
Type into the gaps to complete the poem. To reset the game, click on the "Reset Game" button located below the poem. This will clear all the words you've placed in the blanks, and resetting the poem to its original state with empty blanks. If you prefer to drag and drop words, click the Drag & Drop button below. You can also print out the poem for use in the classroom.
Germ of new life, whose powers expanding slow
For a moon their full perfection wait,—
Haste, precious of happy love, to go
Auspicious borne through life's gate.
What powers lie folded in thy curious frame,—
Senses from objects locked, and mind from thought!
How canst thou guess thy lofty claim
To grasp at the worlds the Almighty wrought!
And see, the genial season's warmth to share,
Fresh younglings shoot, and opening roses glow!
Swarms of new life exulting fill the air,—
Haste, infant bud of being, haste to blow!
For thee nurse prepares her lulling songs,
The eager matrons count lingering day;
But far the most thy anxious parent
On thy soft cheek a mother's kiss to lay.
only asks to lay her burden down,
That her arms that burden may resume;
And nature's sharpest pangs wishes crown,
That free thee living from thy living tomb.
She longs to fold to her maternal breast
Part herself, yet to herself unknown;
To see and to the stranger guest,
Fed with her life through many tedious moon.
Come, reap thy rich inheritance of love!
in the fondness of a Mother's eye!
Nor wit eloquence her heart shall move
Like the first accents thy feeble cry.
Haste, little captive, burst thy prison doors!
Launch on the living world, and spring to light!
for thee displays her various stores,
Opens her thousand of delight.
If charmed verse or muttered prayers had power,
With favouring spells to speed thee on thy way,
I'd bid my beads each passing hour,
Till thy smile thy mother's pangs o'erpay.