Men would have called me a thing of harm, But dreams of my babe made me rosy and warm.
I felt my breasts swell under my shroud; No stars shone white, no winds were loud;
But I stole me past the graveyard wall, For the voice of my baby seemed to call;
And I kenned me a voice, though my lips were dumb: Hush, baby, hush! for mother is come.
I passed the streets to my husband’s home; The chamber stairs in a dream I clomb;
I heard the sound of each sleeper’s breath, Light waves that break on the shores of death.
I listened a space at my chamber door, Then stole like a moon-ray over its floor.
My babe was asleep on a stranger arm, “O baby, my baby, the grave is so warm,
“Though dark and so deep, for mother is there! O come with me from the pain and care!
“O come with me from the anguish of earth, Where the bed is banked with a blossoming girth,