My Little Son
By Pauline Florence Brower
(American contemporary poet. From “Century Magazine.”)
We were so very intimate, we two,
Even before I knew
The outline of the little face I love,
Or bent above
The small, sweet body made so strong and fair;
For we had learned to share
The silences that are more than speech,
Before your cry could reach
My listening heart, or I could see
The miracle made manifest to me.
My little son,
Most glad, most radiant one,
Too soon, too soon, the hour must be cried
That draws you from my side!
In life’s exultant hands is lifted up
This newly molded cup.
The tangled vineyard of the world demands
Your toiling hands.
Look deep, and in all women that you meet
Your searching gaze will greet
This mother of the child that used to be;
Beholding women, oh, remember me!