One wept, whose only babe was dead, New-born ten years ago. "Weep not; he is in bliss," they said. She answered, "Even so.
"Ten years ago was born in pain A child, not now forlorn; But oh, ten years ago in vain A mother, a mother was born."
Alice Meynell
PROFITS
Yes, stars were with me formerly. (I also knew the wind and sea; And hill-tops had my feet by heart. Their shaggéd heights would sting and start When I came leaping on their backs. I knew the earth's queer crooked cracks, Where hidden waters weave a low And druid chant of joy and woe.)
But stars were with me most of all. I heard them flame and break and fall. Their excellent array, their free Encounter with Eternity, I learned. And it was good to know That where God walked, I too might go.
Now, all these things are passed. For I Grow very old and glad to die. What did they profit me, say you, These distant bloodless things I knew? Profit? What profit hath the sea Of her deep-throated threnody? What profit hath the sun, who stands Staring on space with idle hands? And what should God Himself acquire From all the aeons' blood and fire?
My profit is as theirs: to be Made proof against mortality: To know that I have companied With all that shines and lives, amid So much the years sift through their hands, Most mortal, windy, worthless sands.
This day I have great peace. With me Shall stars abide eternally!