Bosomed with the Blessed One,
He shall mind her of her Son,
Once so folded from all harms,
In her shrining arms.
(In her veil of blue,
Dormi, dormi tu.)
So;—and fare thee well.
Softly,—Gabriel...
When the first faint red shall come,
Bid the Day-star lead him home,
For the bright world's sake—
To my heart, awake.
Josephine Preston Peabody [1874-1922]
MOTHER-SONG FROM "PRINCE LUCIFER"
White little hands!
Pink little feet!
Dimpled all over,
Sweet, sweet, sweet!
What dost thou wail for?
The unknown? the unseen?
The ills that are coming,
The joys that have been?
Cling to me closer,
Closer and closer,
Till the pain that is purer
Hath banished the grosser.
Drain, drain at the stream, love,
Thy hunger is freeing,
That was born in a dream, love,
Along with thy being!
Little fingers that feel
For their home on my breast,
Little lips that appeal
For their nurture, their rest!
Why, why dost thou weep, dear?
Nay, stifle thy cries,
Till the dew of thy sleep, dear,
Lies soft on thine eyes.
Alfred Austin [1835-1913]