"Soon he will smile," I said,
"And babble baby love into my ears—
How it will thrill!"
I waited—Oh, the dread,
The clutching agony, the fears!—
He was so strange and still.
Did I curse God and rave
When they came shrinkingly to tell me 'twas
A witless child?
No ... I ... I only gave
One cry ... just one ... I think ... because ...
You know ... he never smiled.
[MOTHER-LOVE]
The seraphs would sing to her
And from the River
Dip her cool grails of radiant Life.
The angels would bring to her,
Sadly a-quiver,
Laurels she never had won in earth-strife.
And often they'd fly with her
O'er the star-spaces—
Silent by worlds where mortals are pent.
Yea, even would sigh with her,
Sigh with wan faces!
When she sat weeping of strange discontent.
But one said, "Why weepest thou
Here in God's heaven—
Is it not fairer than soul can see?"
"'Tis fair, ah!—- but keepest thou
Not me depriven
Of some one—somewhere—who needeth most me?
For tho' the day never fades
Over these meadows,
Tho' He has robed me and crowned—yet, yet!
Some love-fear for ever shades
All with sere shadows—
Had I no child there—whom I forget?"