Then shall I answer: ‘Yea, I do remember
The many blessings to my life allowed;
My June was always longer than December,
My sun was always stronger than my cloud,
My joy was ever deeper than my sorrow,
My gain was ever greater than my loss,
My yesterday seemed less than my to-morrow,
The crown looked always larger than the cross.
‘I have known love, in all its radiant splendour,
It shone upon my pathway to the end.
I trod no road that did not bloom with tender
And fragrant blossoms, planted by some friend.
And those material things we call successes,
In modest measure, crowned my earthly lot.
Yet was there one sweet happiness that blesses
The life of woman, which to me came not.
‘I knew the hope of motherhood; a season
I felt a fluttering heart beat ’neath my own;
A little cry—then silence. For that reason
I dare, to you, my only wish make known.
The babe who grew to angelhood in heaven,
I never watched unfold from child to man.
And so I ask, that unto me be given
That motherhood, which was God’s primal plan.
‘All womankind He meant to share its glories;
He meant us all to nurse our babes to rest.
To croon them songs, to tell them sleepy stories,
Else why the wonder of a woman’s breast?
He must provide for all earth’s cheated mothers
In His vast heavens of shining sphere on sphere,
And with my son, there must be many others—
My spirit children who will claim me here.
‘Fair creatures by my loving thoughts created—
Too finely fashioned for a mortal birth—
Between the borders of two worlds they waited
Until they saw my spirit leave the earth.
In God’s great nursery they must be waiting
To welcome me with many an infant wile.
Now let me go and satisfy this longing
To mother children for a little while.’
SLEEP’S TREACHERY
As the grey twilight, tiptoed down the deep
And shadowy valley, to the day’s dark end,
She whom I thought my ever-faithful friend,
Fair-browed, calm-eyed and mother-bosomed Sleep,
Met me with smiles. ‘Poor longing heart, I keep
Sweet joy for you,’ she murmured. ‘I will send
One whom you love, with your own soul to blend
In visions, as the night hours onward creep.’
I trusted her; and watched by starry beams,
I slumbered soundly, free from all alarms.
Then not my love, but one long banished came,
Led by false Sleep, down secret stairs of dreams
And clasped me, unresisting in fond arms.
Oh, treacherous sleep—to sell me to such shame!
ART VERSUS CUPID
[A room in a private house. A maiden sitting before a fire meditating.]