
The narrator compares their love to a child who has been scolded and is now sleeping fitfully. Despite the joyful noise of others playing in the woods, the narrator's love remains dormant, but warns that if awakened, it will lash out at the happy children and destroy their toys.
By Edith Nesbit · First published 1907 · Genre: Romance, Historical Fiction, Adventure · 147 words
AS a little child whom his mother has chidden, Wrecked in the dark in a storm of weeping, Sleeps with his tear-stained eyes closed hidden And, with fists clenched, sobs still in his sleeping,
So in my breast sleeps Love, O white lady, What does he care though the rest are playing, With rattles and drums in the woodlands shady, Happy children, whom Joy takes maying!
Ah, do not wake him, lest you should hear him Scolding the others, breaking their rattles, Smashing their drums, when their play comes near him -- Love who, for me, is a god of battles!
From the Italian is listed on Textopian as a short story by Edith Nesbit, dated 1907 CE.
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Victorian Era · Children's Literature · Fantasy Fiction · Adventure Story · Coming of Age · Self Discovery · Friendship · Family Relationships · Growing Up · Imagination · Magic Realism · Romance