Well, the river is deep, and drowned folk sleep sound,
An’ it might be the best to do;
But when he made me a light-o’-love
He made me a mother too.
I’ve had enough sin to last my time,
If ’twas sin as I got it by,
But it ain’t no sin to stand by his kid
And work for it till I die.
But oh! the long days and the death-long nights
When I feel it move and turn,
And cry alone in my single bed
And count what a girl can earn
To buy the baby the bits of things
He ought to ha’ bought, by rights;
And wonder whether he thinks of Us . . .
And if he sleeps sound o’ nights.
GRATITUDE
I found a starving cat in the street:
It cried for food and a place by the fire.
I carried it home, and I strove to meet
The claims of its desire.
And since its desire was a little fish,
A little hay and a little milk,
I gave it cream in a silver dish
And a basket lined with silk.
And when we came to the grateful pause
When it should have fawned on the hand that fed,
It turned to a devil all teeth and claws,
Scratched me and bit me and fled.
To pay for the fish and the milk and the hay
With a purr had been an easy task:
But its hate and my blood were required to pay
For the gifts that it did not ask.
AT THE LAST
Where are you—you whose loving breath
Alone can stay my soul from death?
The world’s so wide, I seek it through,
Yet—dare I dream to win to you?
Perhaps your dear desirèd feet
Pass me in this grey muddy street.
Your face, it may be, has its shrine
In that dull house that’s next to mine.
But I believe, O Life, O Fate,
That when I call on Death and wait
One moment at the unclosing gate
I shall turn back for one last gaze
Along the trampled, sordid ways,
And in the sunset see at last,
Just as the barred gate holds me fast,
Your face, your face, too late.