My son, hear the instruction of thy father, and forsake not the law of thy mother. (Proverbs 1:8)
Anne Bradstreet, In Reference to her Children
(23 June, AD1659)
I had 8 birds hatcht in one nest, 4 cocks there were, and hens the rest.
I nursed them up with pain and care, Nor cost, nor labour did I spare,
Till at the last they felt their wing, Mounted the trees, and learned to sing;
Chief of the brood then took his flight, To regions far and left me quite.
My mournful chirps I after send, Till he return, or I do end:
Leave not thy nest, thy dam and sire, Fly back and sing amidst this choir.
My second bird did take her flight, And with her mate flew out of sight;
Southward they both their course did bend, And seasons twain they there did spend,
Till after blown by southern gales, They norward steered with filled sails.
A prettier bird was no where seen, Along the beach among the treen.
I have a 3rd of colour white, On whom I placed no small delight;
Coupled with mate loving and true, Hath also bid her dam adieu;
And where Aurora first appears, She now hath perched to spend her years.
One to the academy flew, To chat among that learned crew;
Ambition moves still in his breast, That he might chant above the rest
Striving for more than to do well, That nightingales he might excel.
My 5th, whose down is yet scarce gone, Is ‘mongst the shrubs and bushes flown,
And as his wings increase in strength, On higher boughs he’ll perch at length.
My other 3 still with me nest, Until they’re grown, then as the rest,
Or here or there they’ll take their flight, As is ordained, so shall they light.
If birds could weep, then would my tears, Let others know what are my fears
Lest this my brood some harm should catch, And be surprised for want of watch,
Whilst pecking corn and void of care, They fall un’wares in fowler’s snare,
Or whilst on trees they sit and sing, Some untoward boy at them do fling,
Or whilst allured with bell and glass, The net be spread, and caught, alas.
Or lest by lime-twigs they be foiled, Or by some greedy hawks be spoiled.
O would my young, ye saw my breast, And knew what thoughts there sadly rest,
Great was my pain when I you bred, Great was my care when I you fed,
Long did I keep you soft and warm, And with my wings kept off all harm,
My cares are more and fears than ever, My throbs such now as ‘fore were never.
Alas, my birds, you wisdom want, Of perils you are ignorant;
Oft times in grass, on trees, in flight, Sore accidents on you may light.
O to your safety have an eye, So happy may you live and die.
Meanwhile my days in tunes I’ll spend, Till my weak lays with me shall end.
In shady woods I’ll sit and sing, And things that past to mind I’ll bring.
Once young and pleasant, as are you, But former toys (no joys) adieu.
My age I will not once lament, But sing, my time so near is spent.
And from the top bough take my flight, Into a country beyond sight,
Where old ones instantly grow young, And there with seraphims set song;
No seasons cold, nor storms they see; But spring lasts to eternity.
When each of you shall in your nest, Among your young ones take your rest,
In chirping language, oft them tell, You had a dam that loved you well,
That did what could be done for young, And nursed you up till you were strong,
And ‘fore she once would let you fly, She showed you joy and misery;
Taught what was good, and what was ill, What would save life, and what would kill.
Thus gone, amongst you I may live, And dead, yet speak, and counsel give:
Farewell, my birds, farewell adieu, I happy am, if well with you.
What can be compared to a Christian mother’s caring heart?!
COMMENTARY: The Lord Jesus Christ once compared Himself to a mother hen, alluding to the maternal care and protectiveness that hens have for their baby chicks, when He said: “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets, and stone them who are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and ye would not!” (Matthew 23:37).