Wondering and darkly blue,
Pondering and slow,
They would look you thro' and thro',
Then tire and let you go,
And fall back to vacancy,
As if the poor thing plain'd,
"Why was I not let be,
And what have I gain'd?"
'Twas more than I could bear,
I pray'd that he might die;
And God must have heard my prayer,
For he went with a little sigh:
A flutter, a murmur, a sigh
Lighter than dawn wind—
It was his soft Good-bye;
And all my life lay behind.
I wonder if they were wise,
Those three kings of the East
Who offer'd gifts of price
To the Child on a Girl's breast.
But if they were wise, their sons
Have other counsel than they:
The gifts they offer are guns,
And the children's parents they slay.
ix
He went before my load was quicken'd,
And I lay in alone.
He was not there when baby sicken'd,
Nor when it was gone.
I walkt with Mother to the church,
With Mother and Fan,
My hard eyes ever on the search—
Pity me who can!
The grief was bad enough to bear,
So dreadfully to wean it;
But to go home and leave it there,
And he had never seen it—!
It was a thing to thank God for
That home for me was none;
I knew before we reacht the door
That my home life was done.
x