Nature, the gentlest mother [Russian translation]

Nature, the gentlest mother

Impatient of no child,

The feeblest or the waywardest, -

Her admonition mild

In forest and the hill

By traveller is heard,

Restraining rampant squirrel

Or too impetuous bird.

How fair her conversation,

A summer afternoon, -

Her household, her assembly;

And when the sun goes down,

Her voice among the aisles

Incites the timid prayer

Of the minutest cricket,

The most unworthy flower.

When all the children sleep,

She turns as long away

As will suffice to light her lamps;

Then, bending from the sky,

With infinite affection

And infiniter care,

Her golden fi nger on her lip,

Wills silence everywhere.

• Artist:Emily Dickinson