human
Pompilia
gpt
Oh, how good God is that my babe was born, --Better than born, baptised and hid away Before this happened, safe from being hurt! That had been sin God could not well forgive: _He was too young to smile and save himself_----
human
with the babe that had sat upon her knees broken off: or that passage, with its exquisite naïveté, where Pompilia relates why she called her boy Gaetano, because she wished
gpt
So, carefuller, perhaps, To guard a namesake than those old saints grow, Tired out by this time,--see my own five saints!
human
Thus, all my life, I touch a fairy thing that fades and fades. --Even to my babe! I thought, when he was born, Something began for once that would not end, Nor change into a laugh at me, but stay For evermore, eternally quite mine----
gpt
One cannot judge Of what has been the ill or well of life The day that one is dying.... Now it is over, and no danger more ... To me at least was never evening yet But seemed far beautifuller than its day, For past is past----
human
the
gpt
A whole long fortnight; in a life like mine A fortnight filled with bliss is long and much. All women are not mothers of a boy.... I never realised God's birth before-- How he grew likest God in being born. This time I felt like Mary, had my babe Lying a little on my breast like hers.
human
God stooping shows sufficient of His light For us i' the dark to rise by. And I rise----