“CHILD of my love― ‘Lean hard,’
And let me feel the pressure of thy care.
I know thy burden, child; I shaped it,
Poised it in mine own hand, made no proportion
Of its weight to thine unaided strength.
For even as I laid it on I said,
‘I shall be near; and, while she lean on me,
This burden shall be mine, not hers;
So shall I keep my child within the circling arms
Of mine own love.’ Here lay it down; nor fear
To impose it on a shoulder which upholds
The government of worlds. Yet closer come―
Thou art not near enough; I would embrace thy care,
So I might feel my child reposing on my breast.
Thou lovest me? ―I know it. Doubt not, then;
But loving me― ‘Lean hard.’”