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THE MINISTRY OF A CHILD 
 
THE MINISTRY OF A CHILD 
 
 A BOOK OF VERSES 
 
 by 
 
 T)Vu . 
 
 Martha Foote Crow 
 
 s^ 
 
 The Wind-tryst Press, Chicago 
 M dccc zcix 
 
T5/4-13 
 
 Copyright, 1899, 
 The Wind-tryst Press. 
 
 60 516 3 
 
 FEB i 1 1941 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 T- 
 
 % 
 
 i 
 
TO AGATHA 
 (O that she may know I) 
 
 And to those dear friends who were with me 
 during her short and beautiful life; 
 
 And to those of my women friends into 
 whose hands this book of verses, with my love, 
 shall come; 
 
 And to that great friend, who though she 
 never knew Agatha, yet cherishes her memory 
 as tenderly as though she had known her; 
 
 And to those whose gentle hands have helped 
 to fashion and print the small volume: 
 
 This book, which is a little story in verse, 
 is, with undying remembrance and affection, 
 dedicated. j^^ P^ ^^ 
 
FATHERHOOD 
 
 My father dear, the splendor of thine eyes 
 Was as a beacon in the storm and stress 
 Of my young days; I saw thee then address 
 Thyself for battle, unknown potencies 
 To face; the future thou didst pawn, didst prize 
 Emblazonment of fame and the caress 
 Of the world's sweet and subtle favor, less 
 Than humble crust with living true and wise ! 
 Truth thou hast passionately loved, the voice 
 Within listened intently, wast not blind 
 To the faint, shining footsteps' print that wooed 
 To chase a vanishing ideal. Thy choice 
 Deliberate was this, and thou didst find 
 A narrow place on earth but heavenly food 1 
 
 This banqueting thou tenderly didst call 
 On me to share. Thy message was to burn 
 The treasure-laden ships behind, to spurn 
 The coward's invitation to enthrall 
 
The active mind by brooding over all 
 Mistakes of vanished days, and thus to earn 
 The fellowship of spirits great that yearn 
 To right the wrong and rescue those that fall. 
 So when the lesson hard for me was set, 
 Thine eyes' sad majesty was my command; 
 Thy gentle greatness was the power beguiled 
 Me following after thy sure step. And yet 
 My heart, dear father, ne'er did understand 
 Thy heart, until God gave to me a child ! 
 
 8 
 
TO ANGELO 
 
 Thine ardent eyes look o'er the crystal wall, 
 
 Sweet Angelo ! 
 They brim with light, they love, they long; 
 In their mysterious depths the wish to roam 
 Burns with a changeless glow. O come, I call, 
 
 Sweet Angelo, come I 
 
 I dream thou'rt come. That flashingjoy so near, 
 
 Sweet Angelo, 
 My hand unworthy shades away lest blind 
 I grow. Thy nestling fingers white as foam 
 Hurt sore; thy brow's expanse strikes fear; 
 
 Yet — Angelo, come I 
 
 Is't true that pain and love in thee must meet. 
 
 Sweet Angelo? 
 Then come, dear pain, and make love drain 
 The heart for once, and strike this crying dumb; 
 And come, dear love, make pain more swiftly 
 fleet; 
 
 Come, Angelo, come ! 
 
 II 
 
Come on the swiftest sun-ray, and flash out, 
 
 Sweet Angelo, 
 The light's unfearing smile I Strike through 
 
 the blue, 
 And bring its love-tint to thy waiting home. 
 And with unflinching gaze put wrong to rout ! 
 
 Come, Angelo, come 1 
 
 12 
 
THE CONFLICT 
 
 I would be sad — 
 
 And yet I cannot be, I must be glad 1 
 Within my heart goes on a mimic war; 
 On come the soul's trained passions, battle- 
 fired, 
 Pale Reason leading, calm as morning star. 
 To meet them sweeping down comes, unattired 
 For battle and unmarshalled and unled, 
 A horde of conquering instincts strong and 
 
 fleet, 
 In robes of heavenly brightness habited. 
 With voices trumpet-toned yet silvery sweet, 
 And glances that compel like lightning swift. 
 And when this overwhelming host she sees, 
 Like broadening sun-rays through the cloud's 
 
 wide rift, 
 Reason with all her forces turns and flees ! 
 
 And so although I would be sad, 
 
 I must be glad. 
 
 13 
 
THE VOICE 
 
 First time that deep and sweet and tender thrill 
 Reached to my heart, as though swift lightning 
 
 flashed 
 On a black night, a waiting world to spy. 
 The pulses of my being all stood still 1 
 Before the awful truth I stood abashed; 
 
 "Fear not, O mother," 
 Spake a voice ; '* Sweet mother, it is I ! " 
 
 Fear not 1 It is the archangel's voice again. 
 Fear not ! O hear the welcoming, warning word 
 Speaks in that touch within my being's core, 
 And trumpets to my hope: "Fear not 1 To men 
 Comes help — but to thy heart a sword 1 
 
 And yet, fear not. 
 But think of me, sweet mother, evermore!" 
 
 Sweet mother! Ah that infinite tender word 
 Lures tears into my eyes, prayer to my heart; 
 Brings joy that ne'er before was dreamed to be ! 
 Welcome and blessings on thee, friendly sword. 
 Though through my outmost soul thy piercings 
 dart! 
 Ah listen, heart. 
 And hear again, "Sweet mother, think of me ! " 
 
 14 
 
Sometimes when whelmfid in a sea of cares, 
 When faith storm-blinded, drenched and dumb, 
 Scarcely the guiding finger still can see, 
 Fails courage 'neath the burden that she bears, 
 I feel thy present comfort gently come 
 
 Unfailing ;— *• Mother, 
 Think of me, O mother, think of me ! " 
 
 When unsealed mountains awful rise before. 
 Abysses darkling yawn 'neath black-browed 
 
 peaks, 
 Dangers unnamed await, and cruelly 
 A scourging duty urges more and more, — 
 Thy gentle sweet reminder softly speaks: 
 
 '* Brave heart, O mother ! 
 'Tis for me, sweet mother, 'tis for me!" 
 
 And when my weighted love gaily sent forth, 
 Dismantled, haggard, worn and sad returns. 
 And all my poured-out treasures scorned I see. 
 My sacred hoardings counted little worth. 
 Thy voice within my heart unfailing burns: 
 
 "I am here, O mother! 
 Think of me, sweet mother, think of me!" 
 
 15 
 
When solitude unutterable surrounds 
 Amid the vexed and rushing city throng, 
 With them I chase a thing I cannot see, 
 Moved by some potent impulse that astounds 
 My judgment, — then like undertone of song, 
 
 I hear, — "O mother, turn. 
 And think of me, sweet mother, think of me !" 
 
 And e'en among choice friends whose clasping 
 
 hands 
 I many weary years have longed to take. 
 Whose loving eyes' response have longed to 
 
 see. 
 Thy touch my inmost heart quickly demands, — 
 
 "Nearer than all of these for love's dear sake 
 
 Am I, O mother ! 
 Think of me, sweet mother, think of me! " 
 
 10 
 
THE RESPONSE 
 
 I bow before thy pure and kingly claim, 
 Thou whose young crown of sunlight-raying 
 
 hair 
 I yet have never seen and ne'er may see; 
 Thou whose unspoken heavenly-royal name 
 My untrained ear not yet to hear could bear; 
 
 Of thee, dear one, 
 I think; sweet one, I think of thee! 
 
 I'll think of thee, thou well-spring of my joy, 
 Heart of my heart, until the appointed hour — 
 More near than ever chosen one can be 1 
 No day can be so darkened w^ith annoy 
 But that thy bidding shall have power 
 
 O'er me. Dear one, 
 I'll think of thee; sweet one, I'll think of thee. 
 
 And if I never see thy darling face, 
 
 Ne'er read within thine eyes the heavenly lore, 
 
 Never by thy child-love uplifted be, 
 
 Ever shall ache thy waiting unfilled place ; 
 
 Still shall my spirit bound foreverraore 
 
 Be to thine own; 
 While life shall last, dear one, I'll think of thee. 
 
 17 
 
And more — the thrill thy vivid heart-beat sends 
 E'en to my heart speaks of immortal years, 
 As heaven's broad rim in dewdrop's round we 
 
 see. 
 'Tis joy, 'tis life thy living presence lends; 
 Thy life shall conquer death, shall conquer 
 
 tears. 
 Thy life, dear one, 
 Forevermore, sweet one, I live with thee. 
 
 Yes, through eternity's long day unflecked, 
 Where infinite joys await beyond, above, 
 And God's clear smile in peace unveiled we see, 
 And pain long since endured is little recked, 
 No angel love can win me from thy love ; 
 
 Forever mine, dear one. 
 While eons onward swing I'll think of thee! 
 
 i8 
 
THE HUMAN CRY 
 
 The morning sunlight broods upon the polished 
 
 mere ; 
 The multitudinous shoals of fishes swarm, 
 Or fickle dart beneath the shadowy pier, 
 As stricken by swift impulse of alarm. 
 
 Down where the slime clings to the green- 
 fringed stake, 
 I see a glittering thing, a bubble, start 
 And quiver, then a dainty spiral take, 
 And to the ether as if homeward dart. 
 
 O life I do we as bubbles blindly whirled 
 In spirals, through enveloping darkness move, 
 Only in vastness empty to be hurled 
 And lost in unimagined space above? 
 
 But, heart, who made the spiral motion rare, 
 Springing unwilled from ooze beneath the 
 
 flood? 
 Who lifted that blue-ceiled expanse of air. 
 Drawing us upward ? Help us, help, O God I 
 
 19 
 
A NIGHT THOUGHT 
 
 Alone I list the haunting terror of the night ; 
 The speaking clock-tick, and the melancholy drip 
 Of rain-drops on the shingles, and the swishing slip 
 Of branches 'gainst the eaves, like robes of ghosts 
 affright* 
 
 I hear the twitter of the swallow birdlings sweet, 
 Stirring in comfort soft beneath the downy breast 
 Of the warm mother-bird within their chimney 
 
 nest. 
 In their bird language mystic comes her answer 
 
 meet. 
 
 O mother mine, beneath the rain-soaked leaves 
 
 long laid ; 
 O father far, and childhood past, and sweet love 
 
 gone; 
 O hope delayed, and risk and ruth and fruitless 
 
 moan — 
 Ah God, were I a bird, nestling and unafraid I 
 
 30 
 
SONGS IN THE NIGHT 
 
 Soft melody moves nightly o'er me, 
 
 Tender and sweet; 
 Now swiftly hurrying on before me 
 
 With airy feet; 
 Now floating almost to my lips, 
 As downward bird-flight smoothly dips 
 
 With movement fleet. 
 
 And now I hear the music fading 
 
 Into the sky, 
 With might my very soul persuading 
 
 With it to fly; 
 And yet a sweet tone strangely blends, — 
 Can it be mother's voice that lends 
 
 The melody? 
 
 Why do I see her sweet eyes beaming 
 
 Out of the dark? 
 Why do old childhood thoughts come stealing 
 
 Over me? Hark! 
 'Tis now from heaven a mystic strain — 
 'Tis now her voice, with bliss and pain 
 
 Clearly I mark. 
 
 31 
 
Yes, song that all the night goes ringing, 
 
 Thou'rt lullaby; 
 The strain I hear her dear voice singing 
 
 Is lullaby. 
 O mother dear, with radiant brow, 
 Shall I be loved as thou, as thou 
 
 Sing lullaby? 
 
 22 
 
LULLABY-DAYS. 
 
 Lullaby-days, for you I wait 
 
 With joy, with fear, in doubtful state ; 
 
 The dreaded, longed-for heavenly boon 
 That if it come at highest noon 
 Or dawn or midnight, still comes late. 
 
 Shall not my questionings cease debate, 
 My sad heart stop its war with fate, 
 When once I hear thy magic tune, 
 Lullaby-days? 
 
 And shall not love dissolve all hate. 
 
 And hope and fear together mate? 
 
 I list the answer — a baby's croon I 
 
 Ah, sweetest time, come soon, come soon; 
 
 Bring me that song from heaven's gate, 
 Lullaby-days ! 
 
 23 
 
THE LAST HOUR 
 
 I wandered in a land of shadows, pressed 
 
 By shapes of horror, clutched and hurt and torn, 
 
 Yet struggling ever on, until outworn 
 
 And spent, from dim Beyond an angel blest 
 
 Brought thee, dear one, and gave thee to my 
 
 breast. — 
 Then came old Death and clasped me. Most 
 
 forlorn 
 Of the dark shapes was he; his kiss was born 
 Of sharpest sword-thrust and of heavenliest 
 Sweet balm. But when he saw thy regal form, 
 Whose very weakness was its sceptered law, 
 He shuddered, turned, and swiftly fled away; 
 And all the hideous troop like spending storm 
 Sped after into darkness. Then I saw 
 'Twas thou, sweet guest, would lead me back 
 
 to day ! 
 
 24 
 
FIRST BABY SONG 
 
 Come, little dove, 
 
 Come over in the nest I 
 
 Come, little nestling. 
 
 Come to mother's breast I 
 
 Cry not, O cry not, 
 
 There's coming pain enough I 
 
 Alas, my bairnie. 
 
 The ways of life are rough 1 
 
 Sleep, darling bairn, 
 Thy mother's heart beats near; 
 Cuddle warmly down 
 And never dream of fear. 
 Wake not, O wake not, 
 Stay one moment more; 
 Give, O give this comfort, 
 Now the long pain's o'er! 
 
 25 
 
JOY OF TEARS 
 
 O baby love, why criest thou 
 
 Upon thy pillow white? 
 
 Knowest thou the meaning of thy tears. 
 
 Through all the long, long night? 
 
 O heart of mine, why criest thou 
 Through all the long, long night? 
 
 stem that ceaseless flow of tears 
 That blinds thee from the light I 
 
 1 lay my face by thine, dear bairn, 
 Upon the pillow white. 
 
 And weep tears meaningless as thine 
 Through all the long, long night I 
 
 26 
 
THE BABY'S HAND 
 
 Despair came to me robed in ashen dress 
 From cobweb loom of fate. His pitiless 
 And hungry eyes burned upon mine; apart 
 His eager lips were; and my throbbing heart 
 Stood still, as to fulfill my strong desire, 
 He reached a fluid dark in glass of fire. 
 "It is oblivion," he gasped. My hand 
 I stretched. I felt his breath that hotly fanned 
 My face. My parched throat cried out to drink 
 The opiate sweet — so without pain to sink 
 Away forever. Then in the gathering night 
 Thy helpless hand, like wandering ray of light, 
 Reaching and fluttering toward my heart I saw; 
 And the up-swelling of some heavenly law 
 Obeying, with one swooning cry, I caught 
 My hand back from the goblet bright, and 
 
 sought 
 And clasped thine own, with quelled alarm, 
 Thy pleading hand, so tiny but so warm I 
 
 27 
 
MIDNIGHT SONG 
 
 My darling baby lies 
 Deep in the pillo^w nest; 
 Those wondrous owlet eyes 
 Shining their loveliest. 
 
 Those eyes are diamonds rare, 
 Black diamonds gleaming bright, 
 To catch with beckoning flare 
 The treasure-hunter's sight. 
 
 Two mountain lakes are they, 
 Reflecting clearest stars. 
 Whose placid, undimmed ray 
 No midnight ripple mars. 
 
 Twin berries dark that gleam 
 Within a shady place ; 
 Twin beadlets where the stream 
 Stays in its tumbling race. 
 
 Pure wells they are that keep 
 Secrets no one can solve ; 
 Within their mystic deep 
 Shadows of thought revolve ; 
 
 28 
 
Or maps to trace sweet nooks 
 In the undiscovered land; 
 Illuminated books 
 No man may understand; 
 
 Or forge-fires from whose light 
 Creation's secrets spring; 
 Or forest circles bright 
 Where dancing fairies swing. 
 
 The gates are closing — closed; 
 The jewel's gleam is dim; 
 And clouds stream unopposed 
 Over the lake's soft rim; 
 
 The music floats afar, 
 The page blurs tremblingly; 
 And sailing fancies whelmed are 
 Beneath a slumbrous sea. 
 
 29 
 
TEACHING OF MOTHERHOOD 
 
 Child! child I — I spoke the word so soft and 
 
 round, 
 I sang it, shouted, triumphed in the thought; — 
 So heedless playing on that great stop caught 
 Humanity's antiphony profound. 
 For as I made that single note resound, 
 Beneath its roll another chimed and sought 
 The ear, and in my waiting heart-depths taught 
 That heavenly-sweet word 'mother' how to 
 
 sound ! 
 I listened. Soft the notes played on and grew 
 To one. Springing within an infinite past 
 It touched an infinite future, reconciled 
 All peoples who through its revealing knew 
 The heart of God. Then on my lips at last 
 I felt come quivering the words, "My child !" 
 
 30 
 
SLUMBER SONG 
 
 Fare thee well, my dainty baby, 
 Fare thee well to Slumberland 1 
 
 Down a glittering dream comes riding, 
 
 Floating on a cloud of amber, 
 
 Gently takes thee by the hand; 
 
 In her magic spells confiding, 
 
 Lures thee to the Land of Slumber; 
 
 Curtains starry eyes so softly, 
 
 Quiets waving hands so deftly. 
 
 Sings a lulling dreamland tune. 
 
 Whispers an unspoken rune. 
 
 Weaves her sleep charms without number. 
 
 Lures thee to the Land of Slumber. 
 Fare thee well, O sweetest baby. 
 Fare thee well, O fare thee well 1 
 
 31 
 
PEACE 
 
 When from the wearying war of life 
 
 I seek release, 
 I look into my Baby's face, 
 
 And there find peace ] 
 
 32 
 
TREASURE TROVE 
 
 O'er my treasure in a casket 
 I bend and gloat and dream; 
 My heart's enthralled with gazing 
 On the gems' entrancing gleam. 
 
 There are rubies clear and topaz 
 Cream- white and rosy-pink; 
 Forget-me-nots of turquoise, 
 The fairest gem-set link. 
 
 There are pearls, seed pearls, the purest 
 That e'er were seen to shine; 
 And gold, spun gold,— no finer 
 Was ever found in mine. 
 
 Wouldst know where lies my treasure, 
 My gold and rubies red? 
 'Tis just my baby darling, 
 A-dream in the cradle bed ! 
 
 33 
 
SOUL ADVENT 
 
 And now comes thought and makes a heavenly 
 
 throne 
 Upon thy brow. Expressions unforeknown, 
 Creations new, yet speaking of the past, 
 Touch here and there upon thy face, the last, 
 Dear babe, of lines ancestral lost in mist. 
 Manifold meanings keep mysterious tryst 
 Within the shadows of those wondrous wells 
 That are thine eyes; and royal will dispels 
 Obscurity, puts all beneath his yoke 
 And sends a vivid, energizing stroke 
 Down to thy slender shell-tint finger tips. 
 A human smile touches thy lovely lips 
 With radiance clear shed from immortal life. 
 Thou knowest, laughest, grievest ; thy tears 
 
 have strife 
 With smiles. Thy lips can plead, thine eyes 
 
 reprove. 
 Thy small arms press and draw,— do they not 
 
 love? 
 O days of babyhood, still lingering, 
 Yet pass like pearls a-dropping from the string, 
 Irrevocable pass, as twilight fades, 
 
 U 
 
On to the ever duskier growing shades 
 
 Of things that were ! And now in distance dim 
 
 Responsibility and Duty grim 
 
 And wrinkled Care, a trio sad but kind, 
 
 I see draw near. Were not their forms outlined 
 
 Against the light cast on the hills of hope. 
 
 Thou raightest long to turn again and grope 
 
 Back to thy primal home, and sink and hide 
 
 Thy spark of life beneath oblivion's tide. 
 
 35 
 
'Ayadd 
 
 Maybe my baby 
 
 Isn't sweet 1 
 My pearl of a girl 
 
 Complete I 
 The light of her bright 
 
 Eyes clear; 
 The tips of her lips 
 
 Just dear! 
 
 Maybe my baby 
 
 Can't talk 1 
 You may say what you may, 
 
 Laugh and mock; 
 She replies with her eyes' 
 
 Rhythmic line, 
 And she charms with her arms' 
 
 Action fine. 
 
 Maybe my baby 
 
 Isn't wise 1 
 She can speak ancient Greek, 
 
 Latinize; 
 Says •*ago" 1 —Really so ! 
 
 If you would 
 Ask her name, she this claim 
 
 Makes:— **I-good." 
 36 
 
THE CHRIST CHILD 
 
 Wonder divine ensphering heaven and earth, 
 And calm foreboding of a coming woe, 
 And trenchant courage strong for awful stress, 
 And buoyant love that fain would lift the lost, 
 Dimmed o'er with question, yet in the far depths 
 Pregnant with living everlasting yea, — 
 This sees each mother in her own child's eyes; 
 And this the secret strange and passing sweet 
 That piques the ages in the dreaming orbs 
 Of Raphael's mother- throned, godlike child I 
 
 37 
 
MOTHER'S PAY 
 
 When the babe lies on the heart 
 
 Cares depart; 
 Heavenly peace, heavenly rest 
 
 Fill the breast 
 When the babe lies on the heart. 
 
 When I look on baby's face 
 
 In baby's place, 
 Vexing snarls to smoothness run. 
 
 Magic-spun, 
 When I see that peaceful face. 
 
 Than queen to people more to thee 
 
 I joy be; 
 Than people to their queen thou'rt more 
 
 Told o'er and o'er 
 In every breath of thine to me. 
 
 When thou liest on my heart 
 
 Hatred's smart 
 Turns to sweet; love's soft spell 
 
 The way knov/s well 
 Through baby's lips to mother's heart. 
 
 O'er responsive eyes and lips 
 Sleep's eclipse 
 
 38 
 
Softly falls, breathing bliss 
 
 As I kiss 
 The tiny rosy finger tips. 
 
 While with thee sweet tryst I keep 
 
 Half asleep, 
 In thy silver dream-world boat 
 
 Soft I float 
 Over slumber's sacred deep. 
 
 Lesser duty's strident scream 
 
 Drops its theme; 
 Joy and duty are one code 
 
 Heaven-bestowed, 
 While I watch my baby dream. 
 
 As I gaze on baby's face 
 
 Angel's grace 
 Falls around. Who from home 
 
 Cares to roam 
 While she sees the baby's face? 
 
 When my babe lies on my heart 
 
 Cares depart; 
 Heaven and home by heaven's grace 
 
 Are one place. 
 When my babe lies on my heart. 
 
 39 
 
THE PRINCESS 
 
 The Princess holdeth Court today, 
 
 She with the eyes so blue; 
 And all her subjects gather round 
 
 To offer homage true. 
 
 And he on whom her clear glance rests 
 Counts this his happiest day, 
 
 And proudly in his heart he keeps 
 That recognizing ray. 
 
 And he on whom her sovereign hand 
 
 Confers its rose leaf thrill. 
 Laughs care away, has courage new 
 
 To live and conquer still. 
 
 But ah I the one that gayest turns 
 
 Back to the rank and file 
 To serve forevermore, is he 
 
 That wins her dimpling smile. 
 
 40 
 
TIE OF MOTHERHOOD 
 
 In the clear morning air my baby rides 
 In royal state, and her proud charioteer 
 I happy am to be. And when draws near 
 Another train, its pilot's eye confides 
 To mine and mine to hers, the love that guides 
 Our steps. I greet with reverence sincere 
 Her monarch, she greets mine; and so endear 
 And bind we mother-hearts whate'er divides. 
 
 I love all women 1 Those who proudly boast 
 Their living children, those whose hearts are 
 
 strong 
 For one unborn, and those whose babes are 
 
 clay. 
 But oh, those do I love and pity most 
 Whose breasts to give their flowing sweetness 
 
 long 
 To the unquestioning lips, yet never may I 
 
 41 
 
A MOTHER'S MOOD 
 
 To school ? O no, my darling boy, not yet ! 
 I caught him, held him close and would not let 
 Him speak. My heart felt then, he clinging so. 
 That mingled pain and bliss that mothers 
 
 know. 
 And while that bobbing head a trice was still, 
 A dream flashed through my mind without my 
 
 will. 
 I saw a backward path with flowers of gold, 
 Music and peace, all that the heart could hold; 
 A tiny hand was w^arm w^ithin my own; 
 Too short, alas! for here the path was done, 
 And ever after there went winding two 
 Instead of one. I saw my own path grow 
 Grayer and ever grayer, downward slope 
 Until it reached the fields where shadows grope 
 And into search-eluding darkness merge. 
 And then I saw my boy's — ah God I diverge; 
 I felt his fingers slip from mine; I saw 
 Him laughing turn; I felt the cruel law 
 Of growth and change crush down on me, 
 But him bear up a rocky steep which he 
 Went gaily climbing. Then in my swift dream 
 
 42 
 
I saw the lurking serpent's cruel gleam, 
 
 The snare that waits the brave that dare aspire ; 
 
 I felt the horror of the flood, the fire; 
 
 I saw the enemy, the blow, the fall, 
 
 The star-crowned height, — then darkness 
 
 shrouded all; 
 I felt with swooning heart the farewell kiss. 
 Ah God, must mothers bear a pain like this? 
 Go not to school, brave boy, but with me stay 
 Ever and still forever and a day ! 
 
 43 
 
FIRST FLIGHT 
 
 The eagle mother when she thrusts her young 
 
 Out from the eyrie home, knows well that she 
 
 Is near at hand to ward the enemy 
 
 Away, to right the awkward stroke air-flung, 
 
 Swiftly to dart beneath, catch the unstrung 
 
 And wearied flight, and, after, restfully 
 
 In swinging circles bear. — Not thus with me. 
 
 When thou goest forth, dear bairn, my heart 
 
 is wrung. 
 Knowing I cannot save thee shouldst thou fall. 
 But ah, if prayer can heaven storm, then must 
 Thou be upborne; if love can testify 
 By spirit touch, thy loss will I forestall 
 With ministry of strength, when thou art thrust 
 Out from the nest, thy fledgling wings to try I 
 
 44 
 
II 
 
DEPRIVED 
 
 He only knows the pride of native land 
 
 Who stands with feet touched by unheeding^ 
 
 foam 
 And sees his country's flag afloat from mast 
 Of ship that yet shall never bear him home. 
 
 He only knows the deepest sweet of home 
 Who exiled feels a pain the whole day long 
 That pierced his heart when on the morning air 
 He heard a strain from his own childhood's 
 song. 
 
 She only knows the passing love of child 
 Who hears some young voice cry and starts 
 
 to run 
 And help, but snatched by memory sees the 
 
 place 
 Her one child lies, its pain and crying done ! 
 
 47 
 
HEAVEN'S WELCOME 
 
 Sweet child-soul, walking slow and earnestly 
 Up through heaven's blinding splendor, all 
 
 amazed, 
 Thy wondrous eyes to infinite heights upraised, 
 Oh, in thy heart what tremor must there be, 
 Heart that was wont to beat tumultuously 
 But yesterday against my own, when dazed 
 By touch of strangeness only, thou hast gazed 
 Like startled fawn, then swiftly turned to flee 
 To thy sure refuge on my breast. Is all 
 Forgot, thy cry for cure of mother's kiss. 
 All crushed beneath the stroke of death's 
 
 demand ? 
 I wish, I almost pray, that even beyond the 
 
 wall 
 That circles heaven's glory, thou mayst miss 
 The clasping of thy mother's human hand. 
 
 48 
 
PROSPECT 
 
 What rich and ever widening life for thee 
 
 I planned 1 The long procession of the books, 
 
 The revelations of the quiet nooks 
 
 Of nature where her gems are wont to be, 
 
 The consecration of philosophy, 
 
 And beauty, — in the secret-telling brooks 
 
 And amber peaks and every leaf that looks 
 
 For heaven's rain and shine; — these were to be 
 
 In thy unfolding mind, the fertile seeds 
 
 To blossom and bear fruit in strong desire 
 
 To add new things to life by mental throes, 
 
 Some thought, some knowledge won in chrism 
 
 of fire. 
 Some sweet philanthropy whence ever flows 
 The outward-circling influence of good deeds. 
 
 49 
 
MUSIC OF EARTH AND HEAVEN 
 
 And music! In my dreams that on before 
 
 Went ever pressing, I could plainly hear 
 
 Thy childhood's trembling touch delight my ear ; 
 
 I saw thy slender fingers o'er and o'er 
 
 The lesson con, thine eyes the master's score 
 
 Study; the interweaving notes as clear 
 
 As crystal came, as round as breath-blown 
 
 sphere. 
 I heard thy voice its tender sweetness pour 
 To bless the home with song. O thou didst fill 
 The lonely house with music till it seemed 
 Like summer morning radiance soft and still 
 That bathes the land with bliss! Such dreams 
 
 I dreamed. 
 But now the music thou dost hear and make 
 No echo in my earth-dulled ear can wake I 
 
 50 
 
SCHOOL OF HEAVEN 
 
 What teachers wilt thou have where thou art 
 
 gone, 
 With tender touch and piercing kindly eyes! 
 What heavenly lore, what scrolls of mysteries 
 To con! All cloudy veils will be withdrawn 
 From purposes divine, and a clear dawn 
 Will shine for thee, unfolding poesies 
 Of infinite and cosmic harmonies. 
 Where love and law, and law and love move on 
 Together ever, clasping hands. On thee 
 Shall ne'er be laid doubt's paralyzing hand. 
 Angels, archangels, waiting, listening, stand 
 Thy trial of the heavenly speech to see; 
 Thy wise young questions will have answers 
 
 meet. 
 Not half truths dim, but certainty complete. 
 
 51 
 
BLEST KNOWLEDGE 
 
 And doest thou see me now, dear one? Dost 
 
 know 
 How silent is the air thou didst make glad? 
 Dost know how I stand weeping, tortured, mad 
 With grief, because thou art not here? If, so, 
 Thou wouldst be happier, if 'twould bestow 
 Another rose of bliss, if it would add 
 A single bud of joy for thee where clad 
 In rainbows thou dost wandering go 
 Among new flowers in heavenly gardens, then 
 I pray that thou mayst know how much I miss 
 Thy presence here where in the dark I grope! 
 But if in thy high realms of rapture when 
 Thou thinkst of me thou'lt lose one thrill of 
 
 bliss, 
 Then that thou dost not know I almost hope I 
 
 52 
 
THE SAFE SLEEP 
 
 I sat among the mothers and I heard 
 Them, counting o'er their bhsses, say 
 The sweetest, happiest moment in the day 
 Was when the children went to sleep. Deferred 
 Until the last, it was the best. No word 
 Could tell the quiet joy, recounted they, 
 When after all the wild and noisy play 
 The wee ones in the cradle were, unstirred 
 By aught except a breathing soft that fell 
 And rose like gentlest waves. There one 
 
 could think 
 Them safe at last ! I heard in anguish deep, 
 And thought, O why can we not deem it well, 
 Yes, and a bliss, when our beloved ones sink 
 Into that last, that deepest, safest sleepi 
 
 53 
 
VOICES 
 
 I hear soft sounds that haunt the rooms where 
 
 thou 
 Didst live. At night a breathing low; then 
 
 peace 
 Flows in. By day a cry from where caprice 
 Has led thee, and I start to help. And now 
 Thy gurgling laugh that always smoothed the 
 
 brow 1 
 And in the morn when I in sleep's release — 
 Moment so exquisite I almost cease 
 My breathing — turn to see, adoring, how 
 Thy eyelids slowly lift, how comes the gaze 
 Of recognition veiled, then, O the burst 
 Of opening joy that blossoms in thine eyes! — 
 The thought flits out but memory waylays 
 And strikes it down. A thousand undispersed 
 And haunting voices bring a thousand lies! 
 
 54 
 
THE SPIRIT'S VEIL 
 
 What are these sounds and voices that trans- 
 form 
 The stillness? Like the tinkling of soft bells, 
 Of wandering flocks in shadowy mountain 
 dells, 
 
 That fill the tremulous air and storm 
 The wanderer's ear and welling upward swarm 
 A chorus dim, so that he scarcely tells 
 Whether 'tis fairy chimes with circling spells 
 From far beneath, or that a potent charm 
 Has caught the spheric music of the stars, 
 Drawn down the song before which angels 
 
 bow. 
 What are you, voices that my heart assail ? 
 Are you but ghosts of moments that the bars 
 Of time shut back? Or is it, darling, thou. 
 Trying thy arts to pierce my spirit's veil ? 
 
 55 
 
THE FINAL DESIRE 
 
 If at the end I could one single day 
 But feel thy beating breast against my own, 
 But hear thy voice's pearl-like human tone, 
 But know the warmth again, the sweet lips' pay 
 Of kiss-toll, that best child and mother play, 
 The comfort fathomless, that thou alone, 
 Sweetest, couldst bring, all pain that I have 
 
 known 
 For thee, how gladly would I suffer, yea, 
 A thousand years, each year a thousand fold ! 
 This via dolorosa would I bound 
 To enter, and to travel calmly o'er, 
 Supported by the vision glad foretold, 
 Of that one day with thee! O then, the round 
 Being o'er, to die and sleep forevermore! 
 
 56 
 
THE VISIT OF SORROW 
 
 When to my lips the chalices of gold 
 And pearl were passed as winged day and night 
 At life's high banquet served their joyous rite, 
 My listening heart with prescience keen, fore- 
 told 
 The step of Sorrow, far but nearing. *'Hold! 
 She comes; prepare," it whispered. "When 
 
 her blight 
 Falls here," I said, "I will be ready; fright 
 Shall not benumb, nor terror strike me cold." — 
 Yet at thy knock, O Sorrow, I would fain, 
 The lights gone out, have stayed to breathe 
 
 that air 
 So sweet. O friends, have patience if ye may; 
 Grant respite short; then I shall courage gain 
 To take her hand, and to go forth will bear I 
 But — just a little longer let me stay I 
 
 57 
 
Ill 
 
FOUR CHILDREN 
 
 Four children have I loved. Like four-fold star 
 They cluster in love's empyrean. Ah, 
 The visions conjured by their names! They are 
 Queen Bess, Queen Mab, and Dor' and Agatha. 
 
 The Queens were sisters. Bess with eyes 
 
 a-dream 
 Spun tales of knights a-tilt by her play desk. 
 And Mab I see hold forth the lantern beam 
 To light the way, a picture Remembrantesque. 
 
 Dor' works at home with all her might and 
 
 main. 
 And fairy-like sets round the tea things for 
 The company, and helps to entertain 
 With dainty grace. Great help is she, is Dor'! 
 
 And Agatha awaits in listening pose 
 My call. Chin-deep in flowers I see her stand, 
 Her bonnet back, while o'er a mountain rose, 
 Like poising bird, hovers her flower-like hand. 
 
 6i 
 
These were the four. Ah dreams that flash 
 
 and go 
 Upon the dark! Ah ruthless tides of years 
 That down life's gentle valleys sweep and flow 
 And leave but memoried ruins, tender tears! 
 
 Now Bess in great Elizabeth is lost, 
 A champion of the last, most bold 
 World-wide reform; and 'neath her woman's 
 
 breast 
 Beats staunch and true a woman's heart of 
 
 gold. 
 
 And gentle Mabelle all unconsciously 
 O'er the dark path a braver lights now lifts; 
 In her wide eyes broods life's great mystery, 
 And in her hands she bears life's precious gifts. 
 
 Dor' answers not. Her name is Dorothy, 
 So please you ! She has found her Self, sur- 
 veyed 
 The boundless circle, and her dignity 
 Repels the profane touch. O sweet, sweet 
 maid I 
 
 62 
 
Gone, gone, the three, each to her life's career, 
 Winding away from where our pathways 
 
 crossed ; 
 Veiled and transformed in the encompassing 
 
 sphere 
 Of thought and circumstance, the Child is lost. 
 
 And Agatha? She drank one draft was drawn 
 From the enchanted wells of infinite sleep; 
 The charm worked; and my memory-haloed 
 
 one 
 Ever a laughing, dreaming child I keep; 
 
 A child that comforts in my brooding thought, 
 That, visioned among flowers that rejoice 
 In brightness which her loveliness has brought^ 
 Stands ever waiting, listening for my voice. 
 
 World's children grow up, into life are whirled ; 
 She ever stays, pours radiance soft and mild 
 To bless my way; a link with the whole world 
 Of children is my own transfigured child. 
 
 63 
 
THE SLAVE CHILDREN 
 
 A traveler came home from his travels 
 And this is the story he told: 
 
 He once found a boat in an inlet 
 By an African strand of gold; 
 He stepped on the deck of the vessel 
 And looked dov^n into the hold; 
 
 He looked and saw in the darkness 
 Shining like starlight cold, 
 The eyes of hundreds of children 
 Looking out from the hold; 
 
 Of hundreds of dark-browed children, 
 This was the story he told. 
 Torn away from their dusky mothers, 
 Trapped and stolen and sold. 
 
 64 
 
Their wondering eyes were pressing, 
 
 By innocence made bold, 
 
 The soul's immortal question 
 
 From the depths of that slave-boat's hold. 
 
 Their asking eyes seemed embattled 
 Like bayonets in line 
 To stab to the hearts of monarchs — 
 Ruling by right divinel 
 
 O kings and princes, how like you 
 This story of slaves and gold? 
 
 The traveler I have forgotten, 
 His stories of woe and mirth; 
 But the eyes of those little children 
 Follow me over the earth. 
 
 65 
 
Kings sit on their thrones in splendor, 
 On their thrones majestic and old; 
 They reck not those human children 
 To the Arabic slaveship sold. 
 
 And queens that are mothers are reigning; 
 Their towers have jewels untold; 
 What care they for black mothers' children 
 In cargoes bound and sold I 
 
 And sweet Justice still sits blinded, 
 The scales tipped by greed and gold; 
 But alas, for those eyes of children 
 Looking out from the hold I 
 
 O listen, O listen, sweet princes. 
 The story my traveler told I 
 
 66 
 
 V 
 
A CHILD 
 
 How thou dost give, O fervid five-year-old ! 
 With v^hat wild fury dost thou throw the wine 
 And fire of thy keen spirit on the air ! 
 Mad spend-thrift of thy heart's and lip's rare 
 
 gold, 
 What gusts of passion, waitings of despair, 
 Untrammeled joy and woe in flashes fine! 
 
 Thy moods bewitch; but yet a lurking fear 
 Foreboding cries. Entrancing butterfly, 
 I weep the tearing of thy tender wings! 
 Poor little ship starting with hope so clear, 
 Beyond the foam-path where thy white sail 
 
 sings, 
 I see the storm-wrack rising on the sky ! 
 
 67 
 
GOD AND THE CHILDREN 
 
 Take my children, 
 
 My poor children, in from off the street! 
 
 You who dwell in homes you did not build, 
 
 By hearth fires that you did not light; 
 
 You who reap from fields you have not tilled, 
 
 By human artifice of right; 
 
 You who sit and comfortably eat 
 
 What came by sweat of others' brows, not 
 
 yours ; 
 You whose brains with myriad plannings reel 
 For gain that never happiness ensures; 
 You who when you give not calmly steal 
 My children's portion, steal my children's meat; 
 O take my children in from off the street I 
 
 Do you not see them there outside the pane, 
 My children ! — standing up in rows? 
 Their eyes show blue-ringed in the globe- 
 light's rain 
 Of radiance that softly flows 
 Out through the dark; more generous than they 
 That lit the lamps, it folds them in its warm 
 
 68 
 
Embrace, it clasps them to its glowing heart. 
 Too small to think a vengeful thought of harm, 
 Too young to reason that their rightful part 
 Is rudely reft from them, it is more sad 
 To see them shivering bask in the unwarming 
 
 bloom 
 Of light that streams out from the rich-hued 
 
 room, 
 Than if they clenched their scawny fists, and 
 
 mad 
 With bitter gall of hatred turned away. 
 
 My children's hands were made as satin soft 
 As yours; my children's lips could grow 
 As round and flower-like as those aloft 
 There in your nursery, aglow 
 With light, lace-hung, immaculately neat. 
 Were they but daily nourished with sweet milk, 
 'Twould woo the rounding curves to come on 
 
 cheek 
 And limb; could they too rest on beds of silk, 
 'Twould give sleep time to cleanse away the 
 
 reek 
 Clouding their skin, to make the rose hues rise, 
 
 69 
 
And fill their veins with pure blood keen as 
 
 wine; 
 Time to paint out the horrof from their eyes, 
 Time to touch in the sparkle there. In line 
 Unlovely hang my children's curls, all stiff 
 With frozen threads of gutter slime; but if 
 By human tender hands they once could be 
 Touched with the wonder-working alchemy 
 Of your soft babies' fragrant bath, so sweet 
 And wholesome, lo, their gold would instant 
 
 shine! 
 O take my children in from off the street 1 
 
 Take my children, you whose daughter fair 
 
 Has grown a lily tall, whose son 
 
 Now matches you in height; and you that wear 
 
 The long night out with tears that run 
 
 In streams that hide my children on the street, 
 
 In bitter streams for those who in eclipse 
 
 Of death bowed down their shining promise; so 
 
 Greet now my children; on their unkissed lips 
 
 The debt for blessed presences you owe 
 
 Whose heavenly chrism you did not rightly see 
 
 Until they took their flight, lay reverently. 
 
 70 
 
My children's feet by winter's grip made numb, 
 Might rosy be as were your babe's before 
 You laid them white away. O let them come 
 And scamper up your stairs! My children's sore 
 And frost-scarred fingers cling upon the bar 
 Outside; O call them in and let them beat 
 The moan back in the place where moanings 
 
 are! 
 O take my children in from off the street ! 
 
 And you O childless women, you who were 
 
 Not dowered. with earth's best blessedness, 
 
 That final comfort-source, the stir 
 
 Of life beneath the heart, the press 
 
 Of soft lips to the breast, yet not denied 
 
 The might divine that swells within the heart 
 
 Of those that store their love: O do not draw 
 
 A respite from the deadening of the part 
 
 That feeds sweet womanhood's full blossoming 
 
 law, 
 Nor let the heaped floods leap their high-built 
 
 bounds. 
 Scan not forever loneliness* black deeps, 
 Lone hearts, but know that clear content that 
 
 sounds 
 
 71 
 
The sorest woe, O from this cup that keeps 
 My heart-pain down, drink and be satisfied I 
 
 When *neath the serried lights the snow clouds 
 
 spin, 
 Listen and hear my children's cries! 
 The people pass. They still the voice within 
 By tossing pence that pauperize.-— 
 Why should my children find upon the street 
 Their downward-pointing only school, my boys 
 Grow foul, my little girls be made to hear 
 And lisp hell's whisper through the highway's 
 
 noise? — 
 My lady laps her fur, and leaves them there, 
 And by her fire forgets. — With them I cry 
 Outside, my little ones! I call, O why 
 Are hearts so hard, sweet impulses so fleet I 
 I cry to you, O hearts of stone, to break 
 And melt; to you my elder children, take 
 My little children in from off the street ! 
 
 7a 
 
AN INTERPRETATION 
 
 Hundreds of pale, unfathered children swarm 
 Upon that catholic breast, the city square; 
 'Tis pestilence that breathes upon their lips» 
 And 'neath their eyelids wolves of famine glare. 
 
 These be the bubbles on life's turbid sea, 
 The last despairing, speechless speaking 
 
 breath, 
 That show where the unmothering mothers 
 
 gasped, 
 And one by one sank to unnoted death. 
 
 73 
 
TWO WOMEN 
 
 One stood with eager eyes in thronged arcade^ 
 Awaiting prey and prey herself to be; 
 One walked with arm in lawful clasp and made 
 A shining wake upon the street's black sea. 
 
 Each one with gaze direct shot bitterness 
 Into the other's heart; and one I saw 
 Go strangle life unborn, one went to press 
 Her virtue's store down famine's yawning maw. 
 
 Each for mere food and raiment low did bow 
 Her pauper heart, a well-appointed link to be 
 In man's consummate social scheme. Canst 
 
 thou 
 O man of woman born, a difference see? 
 
 74 
 
TO A DEFENCELESS ONE 
 
 O would I were an eagle swift; 
 Then on my outspread wing 
 Thee would I gently stoop to lift 
 And to thy home-land bring 1 
 
 O would I were a gallant knight 
 To ride forth to the fray; 
 Upon my sword-point heaven's light, 
 Thy ravager to slay I 
 
 O would I were a castle strong; 
 There in its inmost keep 
 Would I protect thee from all wrong, 
 And lull to restful sleep I 
 
 O would I were a mother fair 
 
 To clasp thee in my arm; 
 
 There shouldst thou sob out thy despair 
 
 Upon my bosom warm! 
 
 75 
 
CALVIN'S REPROACH 
 
 Calvin, I have somewhat laid up 'gainst thee! 
 Not for those troops of children unelect 
 Thou wouldst make wander wailing in a 
 
 wrecked 
 And desolate limbo, but for that company 
 Of living mothers on whose spirits free 
 'Twas thou didst clinch thy clamps, that didst 
 
 project 
 An added bitter in their tears unchecked, 
 Force the dark doubt in their extremity! 
 
 See the long sorrowing train with heads bent 
 
 low 
 For thy hard words 1 Thine eyes must look on 
 
 them, 
 Their hot pain must draw slowly through thy 
 
 heart. 
 That anguished helpless question thou must 
 
 know 
 That rises in their eyes thee to condemn, — 
 Else shalt thou never have thy just desert I 
 
 76 
 
GOD'S PATIENCE 
 
 God, dost thou not see thy sweet world lies 
 Beaten, struck down, and wrong thy power 
 
 defies? 
 Not see that bleeding fall thy strong and brave? 
 How long, how long, O God 1 O look and save! 
 Into engulfing darkness fiees my sister fair. 
 Hounded by want and pain, clutched by despair. 
 My child, — mine, thine! — here strangled lies; 
 None smites the slayer nor heeds it v/hen she 
 
 dies. 
 
 1 see the loved and lovely downward whirled — 
 My God, my God, I cry, thy world, thy world! 
 
 Child, eons long I waited since my world 
 A seething chaos into dark was hurled. 
 Thousands of weary years I've nursed and led 
 Its faltering steps on toward a firmer tread. 
 Millions I yet will watch for flower and fruit 
 Until the evil grovels, throttled, mute. 
 Take thou my hand; my trusty helper be; 
 Look once into my heart and wait with me. 
 
 77 
 
THE BABIES IN THE STREET 
 
 Had thy quick ear, O God, to earth been turned, 
 Above the psalm intoned and pealing bells, 
 Thou hadst a soft pervasive wail discerned; 
 It is the babies, God, the babies sweet, 
 A-dying in the street I 
 
 Their eyelids lift and looking up they see 
 Thy steadfast stars that sing of steadfast law; 
 Their eyelids fall, the stars of destiny 
 Never again those wondering eyes to raeet» 
 A-fading in the street. 
 
 'o 
 
 Because thou couldst no better token find 
 To show thy heart, thou didst by mother-love 
 Our love entreat. Deep-bosomed rest enshrined 
 In arms of mothers clasped unfailingly 
 Should thy dear comfort be. 
 
 78 
 
But mother love has failed and mothers thrust 
 Their babes out in the night and leave them 
 
 there. 
 E'en should theirs fail, thou saidst thine we 
 
 should trust; 
 Yet on the babies' heads the cold rains beat, 
 A-dying in the street. 
 
 Virtue of women, choice commodity. 
 
 Buys gewgaws, sense delight and eye-flash 
 
 power. 
 With breath of babes that did not ask to be, 
 Soft breath of babes that know nor fear nor 
 
 strife, 
 Yet have not asked for life! 
 
 Virtue of women, fate's most cherished pledge, 
 Forfeit to grinding greed, pawn of despair, 
 This dainty morsel dulls starvation's edge; 
 Poured out with tender life in rain and sleet 
 To melt upon the street. 
 
 79 
 
Yet let the tender life sink down to death, 
 Like water spilt and lost. 'Tis better so. 
 And do thou treasure, God, the babies' breath 
 If thou hast built among the realms of bliss 
 A treasure house for this! 
 
 Far better thus. Let them not live to see 
 Their mother's shame dovetail the ancient 
 
 scheme 
 Of human life, her pang its blood-stained key. 
 Yet O to see them lying there so sweet, 
 A-dying in the street ! 
 
 If but their veritable fathers saw 
 
 Them there, the gutter-cradled ones I — their 
 
 wrap 
 Undainty paper soiled and whipped, the raw 
 Night breezes knifing their soft feet 
 In foulness of the street. 
 
 80 
 
Where are the men that boldly stand and saj 
 The unquivering word, hurl it in devils' teeth, 
 No child of theirs rots out its little day 
 In slime of slums? Cut through their lethargy 
 And bring them here to see. 
 
 Send down thy ladies fair, reposeful, clean, 
 Half-sisters only to the forfeit clan; 
 Let madame on the velvet cushion lean 
 And glimpse between the wheels familiar eyes. 
 God, pity her surprisel 
 
 Send down thy champions prosperous and 
 
 well-fed. 
 That never knew the watering of the lips 
 At hunger's pinch, the spasm at sight of bread; 
 And while to peace the babies' breathings sink, 
 Let them stand by and think 1 
 
 8x 
 
And send thy troops of pitying angels, such 
 Alone will cherish these poor children, these 
 Whose blue and stiffening lips the blissful touch 
 Of human mother's breast shall never meet, 
 A-dying in the street. 
 
 Angels for all their tears can never right 
 The vyrong done to these unreplying babes; 
 Yet let them weep until their grief shall smite 
 Hard hearts that leave the babies there so 
 sweet 
 To die upon the street. 
 
 m 
 
MOTHER AND CHILD 
 
 Transfigured through a sweeping rain of tears, 
 I see a single happy childhood day 
 That shines amid the shadows of past years 
 With sparkling ray; 
 
 The day I heard my mother's thimble rap 
 Upon the window pane to call me in, 
 And ran to lean upon her bounteous lap, 
 Her praise to win; 
 
 And looked up to my heaven in her face 
 And felt those clearest wells of living light 
 Pour out their willing floods of gentle grace, 
 My choice birthright; 
 
 And for one moment passionate was held 
 Against a heart whose beating pulse I heard 
 Beneath the fragrant dress. My own heart 
 swelled. 
 With wonder stirred. 
 
 83 
 
This one dear memory I have of her 
 Who soon thereafter grew so heavenly bright, 
 She slipped away into a glorious blur 
 Of dazzling light; 
 
 And left me in the dark to grope around, 
 Trembling and stumbling in an unknown land, 
 Falling and wounded, with my hurts not bound 
 By her dear hand. 
 
 O mother, mother, many a time have I, 
 A woman grown, longed to pour out my grief 
 Upon thy breast, with childhood's tears to buy 
 An hour's relief! 
 
 O once again upon the folds to lean — 
 Soft flowers upon a ground of ivory white — 
 Of that dear dress, to feel thine eyes serene 
 Pour down their light I 
 
 84 
 
To have thy tender hand laid on my hair — 
 In all the earth no other hand's caress 
 With thine could I unblasphemous compare— 
 Lifted to bless; 
 
 So soft its palm, so cool, so dry. and O 
 So firm its loving clasp! its arching line 
 Of veins I see upon my own, and know 
 Myself for thine. 
 
 Yet other morns and eves I dimly trace 
 On memory's oblivion, in whose fair 
 And glowing scenes I do not catch thy face, 
 Yet thou wast there, 
 
 A presence all-pervading; just thy law 
 And sweet thy spoken word; so that thou art 
 To me today in emblem without flaw 
 God's mind and heart. 
 
 85 
 
There were the nights, dear mother, when we 
 
 played 1 
 What wild delight! A gay papoose, perched 
 
 high 
 On father's back I came, madly afraid 
 Thou wouldst not buy! 
 
 ne'er again by regnant state or church 
 By mace or jewelled crown or sword or pen, 
 Shall I so guarded be from hostile search 
 
 As I was then; 
 
 When hidden behind the wide-enfolding tent 
 Of thy soft dress, I calmly did await 
 A fell marauding brother, keenly bent 
 To seal my fate! 
 
 Then there were mornings when curled on the 
 floor 
 
 1 figured with horse-chestnuts brown a den 
 Of lions fierce, or battles streaming gore — 
 
 'Twas war-time then — 
 
 86 
 
Struck down full many a foe debased and vile. 
 And lived through many a life heroic, merged 
 Through epochs of thy interrupting smile 
 When love o'ersurged. 
 
 Among the treasures of that shattered past 
 I keep a pillow cover worn and soft 
 On which thy darling cheek has lain. O fast 
 And thick fall oft 
 
 My bitter tears when on its yielding gloss 
 I lay my weary head and call again 
 Those troops of childhood spirits from across 
 The gulf of pain I 
 
 Those dreams and plays are gone, and on my 
 
 brow 
 Has rested heavily for many a year 
 The double weight of pain and care. And now, 
 O mother dear, 
 
 87 
 
Weary of drifting ever on the wild 
 Tempestuous courses of a starless sea^ 
 Homesick and heavensick, thy tired child 
 Would come to thee; 
 
 Would come to thee, O mother, mother dear, 
 Where'er thou art, in what far lonely space, 
 Knowing my home is there where shines thy 
 clear 
 And radiant face; 
 
 Knowing that there upon thy changeless breast 
 I shall weep out the tangle and the smart, 
 And find a heavenly cure for my unrest, 
 My lost child-heart! 
 
 88 
 
TO THE SMILING PICTURE OF 
 AGATHA 
 
 What would you ask of me, expectant eyes, 
 
 Eyes of my child beloved? 
 Those radiant dreamings of the hour when thoo 
 Didst lie upon my arm. those prophesies — 
 Where have they gone? Does my heart faii 
 me now? 
 
 Ah do not ask, O sweet, O heavenly eyes, 
 
 Eyes of my child beloved I — 
 But I confess; yes, in the dark I grope! 
 Yet would I never lose your dear replies, 
 Would come to you for test, for faith, for hope! 
 
 What would you say to me, demanding eyes, 
 
 Eyes of my child beloved ? 
 Your challenge before every portal stands, 
 Flashes a truth *neath every sly disguise, 
 And leads me back with gentlest countermands^. 
 
 89 
 
Speak to me, tell me, dear, reproving eyes, 
 
 Eyes of my child beloved I 
 With my despairs your courage interweave. 
 ** There is a Fatherhood, v^hoe'er denies, 
 A kinship for all human souls that breathe! " 
 
 Why do you smile at me, O shining eyes, 
 
 Eyes of my child beloved ? 
 ^* All's well; to thee can come no touch of harm, 
 If thou but keep those dreamings of the skies 
 That blest the hours when I lay on thine arm." 
 
 90 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Fatherhood, 7 
 
 Part I To Angelo, 11 
 The Conflict, 13 
 The Voice, 14 
 The Response, 17 
 The Human Cry, 19 
 A Night Thought, 20 
 Songs in the Night, 21 
 Lullaby- Days, 23 
 The Last Hour, 24 
 First Baby Song, 25 
 Joy of Tears, 26 
 The Baby's Hand, 27 
 Midnight Song, 28 
 Teaching of Motherhood, 30 
 Slumber Song, 31 
 Peace, 32 
 
 Treasure Trove, 33 
 Soul Advent, 34 
 Agatha, 36 
 
 92 
 
The Christ Child, 37 
 Mother's Pay, 38 
 The Princess, 40 
 Tie of Motherhood, 41 
 A Mother's Mood, 42 
 First Flight, 44 
 
 Part n Deprived, 47 
 
 Heaven's Welcome, 48 
 
 Prospect, 49 
 
 Music of Earth and Heaven, 50 
 
 School of Heaven, 51 
 
 The Safe Sleep, 52 
 
 Blest Knov7ledge, 53 
 
 Voices, 54 
 
 The Spirit's Veil, 55 
 
 The Final Desire, 56 
 
 The Visit of Sorrow, 57 
 
 Part HI Four Children, 61 
 
 The Slave Children, 64 
 
 A Child, 67 
 
 God and the Children, 68 
 
 93 
 
An Interpretation, 73 
 
 Two Women, 74 
 
 To a Defenceless One, 75 
 
 Calvin's Reproach, 76 
 
 God's Patience, 77 
 
 The Babies in the Street, 78 
 
 Mother and Child, 83 
 
 To the Smiling: Picture of Agatha, 89 
 
 94 
 
I 
 
 r 
 
6 
 
 WE printed this book in a smalJ 
 edition, for our friends ouiy, 
 -.^^* during January, eighteen huQured 
 h\ :: and ninetv-nine. 
 
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