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J 
 
 MY CHILD 
 
MY CHILD 
 
 A BOOK OF VERSE 
 
 BY 
 
 JEAN BERRY 
 
 NEW YORK 
 E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY 
 
 681 FIFTH AVENUE 
 
A 
 
 Copyright, 1919, 
 By E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 Printed In the United States of America 
 
 APR 281919. 
 S>CIA515365 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 I 
 
 What Is This Marvel of Motherhood? 
 Is This My Face I See in the Glass? . 
 Her First Smile Was for Daddy . . 
 
 How Eagerly We Wait 
 
 This Child I Hold in My Arms . 
 Her Little Body Looks So Helpless . 
 Baby Fussed About Her Food . 
 Baby Has Lately Discovered Her Hands 8 
 Baby, Do You Know, I Wonder . . . 
 I Feel the Special Softness of My Arms 
 Chubby Face and Dimpled Arms . . 
 Child, I Had Such Need of You 
 I Wonder What My Baby Thinks . 
 This Tiny House of Flesh . 
 I Was Lonely and Cold . . 
 She Sits on the Floor . . 
 What a Splutter .... 
 Baby, Why Do I Love You So? 
 Oh Day of Days! .... 
 H 
 
 9 
 10 
 ii 
 
 12 
 
 13 
 14 
 15 
 16 
 
 i7 
 18 
 
 19 
 
Page 
 
 These First Days of Walking! .... 20 
 
 Baby Stood Beside Me on My Chair . . 21 
 
 Ah, Tis Sweet to See My Two Together . 22 
 
 Little Inquisitive Toddler 23 
 
 We Were So Old, Husband and I . . . 24 
 
 I Like tojWatch Her Grow 25 
 
 My Child Has Gone to Sleep .... 26 
 
 Her Hair Which Was Black Is White Now 27 
 
 We Are So Close 28 
 
 Her Thick Chestnut Hair Curls Softly . 29 
 
 It Is Cold Outside To-night .... 30 
 
 All Day Long She Asks Me Questions . 31 
 
 There Is No Room for Weariness ... 32 
 
 It's Hard for Me to Work 33 
 
 I Sometimes Watch Her Father's Face . 34 
 
 Oh, What a Romp I Have Had with My 
 
 Child 35 
 
 I Wondered Why the Flakes of Snow . 36 
 
 Her Chubby Face and Dimpled Arms . . 37 
 
 There's Sunshine in Her Wealth of 
 
 Chestnut Hair 38 
 
 [vi] 
 
Page 
 
 Sometimes When My Child Sits Here . . 39 
 
 The Big Soft Flakes of Snow .... 40 
 
 Do You Know How Sometimes in March . 41 
 
 It Seems to Me a Mother's Part ... 42 
 
 She Came and Nestled in My Arms . . 43 
 
 "Little Mother, Little Mother!" . . 44 
 
 She Looks Frail 45 
 
 She Knows Where All the Wild Flowers 
 
 Grow 46 
 
 When I Went f.or the Good-night Kiss 
 
 Just Now 47 
 
 It Is Strange that My Child Should Not 
 
 Care for Her Dolls 48 
 
 To-day I Took My Child to Walk ... 49 
 
 My Child Came Running into My Room . 50 
 
 "The Beautiful Big Lady" 52 
 
 My Child Brought Me Posies To-day . 53 
 
 I Look at My Child 54 
 
 "Little Mother, Come and See" 55 
 
 I Came Across Her Unaware One Day . 56 
 
 I Found My Child in My Room .... 58 
 
 [vii] 
 
This Morning I Was Wakened . . . 
 
 "How Pretty You Are, Little Mother 
 
 To-day I Was III 
 
 The Walls Are a Delicate Tint 
 
 She Came in Swinging Her Hat in Her 
 Hand 
 
 I Scolded My Child Last Night 
 She Sat in My Big Arm Chair . 
 Wherever She Goes .... 
 She's Gone to Pay a Visit . . 
 To-day She Came to Me . . . 
 My Child Has Gone Away to School 
 
 Page 
 59 
 60 
 61 
 62 
 
 63 
 64 
 
 65 
 66 
 
 67 
 68 
 
 69 
 
 [viii] 
 
MY CHILD 
 
MY CHILD 
 
 HAT is this marvel of 
 motherhood ? 
 Who shall say? 
 When this little bundle 
 first was put 
 Into the curve of my arm, 
 My thoughts, my feelings, 
 My emotions — 
 How could I describe them? 
 Why should I try? 
 Mothers know. 
 
 [i] 
 
r S this my face I see in the glass ? 
 Are these my cheeks, round and 
 pink, 
 
 My eyes, laughing and blue, 
 And my mouth with an upward curve? 
 
 When last I looked I was old and haggard, 
 With sallow cheeks and cynical lips 
 And eyes that were cold like glass. 
 
 I have grown young by magic. 
 The magician was my child. 
 
 w 
 
ER first smile was for her daddy. 
 It came about like this: 
 We both bent over her crib, 
 
 Still only half believing 
 
 That she was really ours. 
 
 She was looking up at us 
 
 With a stolid nonchalant air. 
 
 Then her eyes met her father's; 
 
 They softened as with understanding 
 
 Of his kinship, 
 
 The little lips curved inward on her gums 
 
 And parted in a smile. 
 
 [3] 
 
OW eagerly we wait 
 From week's end to week's end 
 To know how much our baby 
 gains 
 In weight. 
 
 She is wrapped in a towel 
 And laid in the basket, 
 And then her father fusses 
 With the scales. 
 It always seems to me 
 He is so very slow; 
 But every week we find she weighs 
 Several ounces more. 
 
 [4] 
 
i 1 
 
 HIS child I hold in my arms 
 s no stranger. 
 
 Somewhere in some vague dim 
 past, 
 That memory strives to brighten, 
 My arms have held this tiny form, 
 My hands have stroked these curls. 
 These little lips I have taught to speak, 
 These feet I have taught to walk, 
 These wide brown eyes that look into mine 
 Are rilled with a love that is not new. 
 Does she remember, I wonder? 
 
 M 
 
|ER little body looks so helpless, 
 
 Lying in my arms. 
 
 Will she one day be a woman? 
 Her little hands beat uselessly in air. 
 Will they become clever and deft, 
 Fashioning beautiful work? 
 Her little feet seem made 
 Only for my kisses. 
 Will they ever walk? 
 
 [6] 
 
ABY fussed about her food, 
 Fretted at her dressing, 
 Tossed the toys that we gave her 
 From her in disgust, 
 And when we made her laugh — 
 Against her will — 
 She broke off in a whine 
 Of irritation. 
 
 Now what do you suppose it was 
 That made her feel so cross? 
 A lovely, weeny, teeny, pearly tooth. 
 
 [7] 
 
i^s 
 
 £^= 
 
 ABY has lately discovered her 
 
 hands. 
 She holds them up before her 
 
 face, 
 Turns them in every possible way 
 While she looks and looks, 
 Serious and puzzled. 
 When they come together, 
 As by accident, 
 
 She coos and squirms and laughs, 
 And straightway forgets them. 
 
 [8] 
 
ABY, do you know, I wonder, 
 How your mother loves you? 
 How her every thought of you 
 
 Is full of humble pride? 
 
 How she gives her very self 
 
 To care for you, 
 
 How her life would be as nought 
 
 To lose for you? 
 
 [9] 
 
FEEL the special softness of my 
 
 arms 
 When I hald my child. 
 No touch could be too gentle 
 For her beauty. 
 My love that sheds its rays of joy around 
 
 her, 
 Is strong and tender 
 For her protection. 
 
 [10] 
 
jHUBBY face and dimpled arms, 
 Little feet that kick in air, 
 Eyes that are too big, 
 Nose that is no nose at all, 
 Little pursed up lips 
 That suddenly break in a smile. 
 Why should the smile make my baby 
 
 bashful, 
 Or is she coy, 
 
 That she turns on her pillow, 
 Hiding her face? 
 
 [11] 
 
JHILD, I had such need of you. 
 Before you came I lived a dreary 
 life 
 
 Of loneliness — 
 
 Loneliness interspersed with agony 
 Of longing. 
 
 Oh, my hungry heart, my aching arms! 
 The pain that raged here in my breast 
 For the touch of your little head! 
 The choking tears that rose in my throat 
 When I saw mothers 
 With their children ! 
 
 Then out of God's wonder 
 
 You came. 
 
 And all the pain was changed to joy; 
 
 Tears were changed to laughter, 
 
 Longing to satisfaction. 
 
 And now my life has become a song 
 
 Of love and praise to Him 
 
 Who gave me you. 
 
 [12] 
 
WSjZjf WONDER what my baby thinks 
 jSMtaj When her wide brown eyes 
 
 Stare at me with such intensity, 
 When no spontaneous smile 
 Answers mine, 
 But she only stares. 
 Why do I seem to be aware 
 Of every fault I ever had? 
 Is my soul an open book 
 For her to read? 
 
 [13] 
 
HIS tiny house of flesh 
 Contains a soul, 
 A soul whose worth of greatness 
 I do not know. 
 But as it is given to me 
 To care for the little body 
 While it grows, 
 So I must nurture the soul, 
 Giving it scope for life 
 And freedom for expression. 
 
 [Hi 
 
WAS lonely and cold, 
 Shutting out the life of light 
 around me. 
 All the gladness of the world 
 I felt as bitterness. 
 And then my lovely child 
 Was put into my arms 
 To teach me. 
 
 She came so straight from God 
 
 My eyes were opened to His closeness 
 
 And to the wonder of His gifts. 
 
 The sky I see, the air I breathe, 
 
 The very food I eat, 
 
 And all the people that I know 
 
 Are sent from Him. 
 
 Yet all these things are just the same 
 
 As they were before. 
 
 I wonder how I could have been 
 
 So deaf and blind. 
 
 [15] 
 
I HE sits on the floor, 
 
 A round little ball, 
 
 Surrounded on all sides by 
 cushions. 
 She makes little gurgling sounds 
 Of laughter at the games 
 We play with her 
 Or with her toys. 
 Sometimes she loses her balance 
 And gets engulfed in a cushion. 
 To her that always seems to be 
 The greatest joke of all. 
 
 [16] 
 
HAT a splutter, 
 What a splashing, 
 When baby has her bath! 
 
 I hear her jabber, 
 
 I hear her gurgle 
 
 In pure delight. 
 
 I hear the nurse's voice 
 
 Gently reproving, 
 
 And then I see an image of my child 
 
 Chewing her sponge. 
 
 [17] 
 
ABY, why do I love you so? 
 Other women have babies, 
 Yet I am sure that no one ever 
 loved a child 
 As I love you. 
 
 Other babies have laughing eyes 
 And dimpled bodies and coy ways, 
 Yet I have never seen one half as sweet 
 
 as you. 
 It must be that I love you so 
 Because you are my own. 
 
 [18] 
 
H day of days ! 
 Her little lips have learned to 
 shape 
 
 The word most magical 
 In all the language. 
 She sat upon my knees 
 And looked at me with a searching gaze 
 That probed my very soul. 
 Then she smiled 
 And lisped that word — 
 "Mother." 
 
 [19] 
 
i 
 
 HESE first days of walking! 
 How many falls and bumps 
 They bring to my child. 
 They hurt me worse than they do her 
 I'm sure. 
 
 For she never seems to mind, 
 She simply tumbles down, 
 Gets up laughing, 
 And starts again. 
 
 [20] 
 
ABY stood beside me on my chair 
 
 face — 
 
 Cheeks and eyes and nose and chin. 
 When I tried to escape, 
 She grew more insistent. 
 She did not smile, she only kissed — 
 Kissed and kissed and kissed me. 
 
 [21] 
 
H, 'tis sweet to see my two to- 
 gether — 
 Father and child. 
 Baby sits upon his knee 
 And coos, 
 
 Or talks in her unworded jargon 
 About his hands, his watch, his buttons 
 Or his tie. 
 
 And sometimes with a quick impulse 
 She clambers to her feet 
 And strokes his hair. 
 
 [22] 
 
^ITTLE inquisitive toddler, 
 Peeping into every corner, 
 Opening every drawer and cup- 
 board, 
 Strewing contents on the floor, 
 What are you looking for 
 That you never find? 
 
 03] 
 
E were so old, husband and I; 
 And now we live again in 
 youth and beauty 
 With our child. 
 I've watched his drooping shoulders 
 
 straighten, 
 His hardened mouth relax, 
 And when he looks across at me, 
 With eyes as soft as in the days 
 Of our first love, 
 I seem to know he sees in me 
 As great a change. 
 
 [24] 
 
LIKE to watch her grow, 
 
 My lovely child. 
 
 There's a place on the nursery 
 wall 
 Where we mark her height 
 On the first of each month. 
 Sometimes the last mark is far below, 
 Sometimes it's rather close, 
 But the trend is always upward 
 As my little darling grows 
 From a baby into a girl. 
 
 [25] 
 
m 
 
 i 
 
 ^3Y child has gone to sleep. 
 
 I\y g/M Her eager searching eyes are 
 closed, 
 
 Her gold-tinged hair spreads out upon her 
 
 pillow 
 And one curl falls across her cheek, 
 Touching her tiny chin. 
 Her breath has grown so low and still, 
 I stoop to see if she is really breathing. 
 A smile just parts her rose-red lips, 
 As though she listened, 
 In the hush that surrounds her, 
 To angels singing. 
 
 [26] 
 
23 ER hair which was black is white 
 now, 
 It falls in curls of silk 
 Over her temples and ears. 
 Her cheeks are a delicate pink 
 Of velvet that once was satin. 
 Her mouth, with its easy smile, 
 Retains its firmness still. 
 Her eyes, most wonderful of all, 
 Are bright and keen, yet mellowed 
 With a glorious light of love 
 And understanding. 
 Poise is expressed in her bearing — 
 A spirit undefiled by trouble. 
 Ah, if I were like my mother, 
 Gentle and strong and wise, 
 I might be all a mother should be 
 To my child. 
 
 [27] 
 
E are so close, 
 My child and I, 
 I seem to know 
 thought 
 And she my very feeling. 
 She never has a tiny pairi 
 But I must have it too, 
 And when she is happy, 
 As mostly she is, 
 No cloud can blur my sky. 
 
 her every 
 
 [28] 
 
|ER thick chestnut hair curls softly 
 Below her ears, where it's cut. 
 And when she laughs 
 And tosses her head, 
 The sunlight touches the strands where 
 
 they curve 
 And finds itself reflected. 
 
 [29] 
 
MT is cold outside to-night. 
 I hear the wind and icy rain 
 Beating against the windows. 
 But here within my love pervaded home 
 'Tis warm and snug and cozy. 
 He whom I love is sitting deep in his big 
 
 chair, 
 Reading and smoking 
 While I write. 
 
 Overhead I hear a moving to and fro, 
 A drop of little shoes, 
 Which tells me that my child 
 Is being put to bed. 
 
 [30] 
 
LL day long she asks me ques- 
 tions : 
 "Mother, what is this" or "that" ? 
 And "Mother, why is it so?" 
 What and why and how she asks 
 From morning until night. 
 Oftentimes I find myself 
 At a loss for answers, 
 As when she asks me why the hen 
 Does not cock-a-doo. 
 
 [31] 
 
HERE is no room for weariness 
 ylL In my child's presence. 
 
 Her laughing spirits bubble up 
 And overflow, 
 Making all things merry. 
 Care or strife 
 Disappear into nothingness 
 With her coming. 
 
 [32] 
 
T'S hard for me to work 
 When my child is here 
 In my room. 
 
 It always seems a waste of time to try; 
 
 For I feel a greater work 
 
 Than aught that I could write 
 
 Is being done, 
 
 When we talk and grow and learn — ■ 
 
 We two together. 
 
 [33] 
 
SOMETIMES watch her father's 
 
 face 
 When her cool refreshing laughter 
 Echoes through the house. 
 He never says a word, 
 But I see two tiny lines 
 Show at the side of his eyes, 
 Which narrow in loving pride, 
 And a softness of expression 
 Subtly creeps into his features, 
 Tempering his look of strength 
 With gentleness. 
 
 [34] 
 
^rr^jH, what a romp I have had with 
 
 HI 
 
 my child 
 On the nursery floor. 
 We played at 'bear' and 'dog' and 'horse* 
 And 'elephant' and 'tiger.' 
 When I grew exhausted 
 And sat down in a chair, 
 Even then she would not let me rest. 
 She jumped up on my lap, 
 Tickled me and pulled my hair, 
 Teased me in all sorts of ways. 
 Had she been another's child 
 In place of mine, 
 Would I have been annoyed 
 Instead of pleased? 
 
 [3*] 
 
WONDERED why the flakes of 
 snow 
 Seemed in such a hurry, 
 As they jostled one another 
 In a merry chase 
 From the sky. 
 
 I looked from my window to see 
 Whether I could find 
 What attracted them. 
 There in the garden below, 
 On a carpet of white, 
 Standing with face upraised, 
 Smiling in eager joy, 
 Was my child. 
 
 The happy flakes that reached her 
 Nestled in her hair, 
 On her shoulders, on her face, 
 In her little outstretched hands; 
 While all the others made for her 
 A fairy playing ground. 
 
 [36] 
 
IER chubby face and dimpled arms, 
 Her eyes and nose and mouth 
 have changed 
 Since the days of babyhood. 
 Her little form has grown so tall, 
 Her face — can I describe it*? 
 The forehead's high, the mouth is sweet 
 Like her father's. 
 And in her eyes there is a world 
 Of inner truth — 
 Of love and wisdom. 
 
 [37] 
 
i 
 
 wM 
 
 HERE'S sunshine in her wealth 
 of chestnut hair, 
 There's sunshine in her gold- 
 brown eyes. 
 
 There's sunshine in her smile — 
 
 That rare illuminating smile. 
 
 There's sunshine in the way 
 
 Her little dancing feet 
 
 Touch the ground. 
 
 Her very presence radiates 
 
 A sunshine warm and bright. 
 
 [38] 
 
OMETIMES when my child sits 
 here 
 At my knee, 
 And I look into her eager upturned face 
 The while she asks me questions 
 Or prattles of her play, 
 I wonder why this blessing came to me. 
 I feel my own un worthiness 
 And am doubtful of my wisdom 
 To guide her in life's way. 
 But when I pray, 
 I realize 
 
 She is God's child, 
 Not mine, 
 And He will lead us both. 
 
 [39] 
 
jHE big soft flakes of snow 
 Were falling fast, 
 Making the trees and grass 
 
 A fairyland of white. 
 
 My child insisted that I go 
 
 Out to play with her. 
 
 (Of course I went). 
 
 We made a man of snow 
 
 With eyes of coal — 
 
 A weird and ghostly man. 
 
 She pelted me with snowballs, 
 
 She made me run and laugh and fall, 
 
 Until I felt as young as she, 
 
 My care-free child. 
 
 [40] 
 
m 
 
 O you know how sometimes in 
 March 
 There comes a lull in boister- 
 ous weather, 
 When one feels a hush — a stillness, 
 As though the earth were listening 
 With bated breath 
 To some new secret of life? 
 In such a time my child was born. 
 
 And then do you know how after the lull, 
 
 The flowers begin to shoot 
 
 And the wind begins to whistle 
 
 A joyful merry tune, 
 
 And all the world awakes 
 
 To new impelling life? 
 
 'Twas so that March my child was born, 
 
 She came on the first day of spring. 
 
 [41] 
 
T seems to me a mother's part 
 Is not to dictate or command. 
 Hers it is to point the way, 
 To guide the little feet 
 Along the path the child's soul knows 
 To its Father — God. 
 
 [42] 
 
HE came and nestled in my arms 
 As I sat before the fire 
 In twilight. 
 
 The fitful flames made goblin forms 
 
 Upon the walls and ceiling. 
 
 I tried to tell her a story 
 
 But could find no plot that pleased 
 
 My whimsical daughter. 
 
 And so we sat and dreamed, 
 
 Both of us watching the flames. 
 
 "A penny for your thoughts," I said, 
 
 Touching her satin cheek. 
 
 Her little hand stole round my neck 
 
 And she snuggled closer. 
 
 "I was thinking that of all the stories 
 
 I ever heard or knew, 
 
 The nicest one is this — 
 
 That you and I should just sit still and 
 rest, 
 
 My little mother." 
 
 [43] 
 
KITTLE mother, little mother!" 
 I heard her call in shrill excited 
 tones 
 From the garden. 
 
 I thought some dire disaster had occurred, 
 And hastened out to her. 
 I found her dancing round a shrub, 
 Clapping her little hands. 
 "Look, look, little mother, spring has 
 
 come !" 
 She cried and pointed out 
 Where tiny buds had burst, 
 Showing the first tinge of green. 
 
 [44] 
 
HE looks frail, 
 
 But she is strong. 
 
 Let her hug you, you will see. 
 Watch her running like a deer, 
 Chasing over field and lane, 
 Never feeling tired. 
 See the freshness of the zest 
 That she puts in work or play. 
 She looks frail, 
 But she is strong, 
 She is growing, that is all. 
 
 [«j 
 
I HE knows where all the wild 
 flowers grow; 
 She plucks the first of every 
 kind 
 And makes an offering to me. 
 She knows the nests of all the birds 
 In her woods. 
 
 Squirrels and rabbits are her friends, 
 The wind laughs when she passes by. 
 I think there is no secret of outdoors 
 That is not known to her — 
 Dear Nature's child. 
 
 [46] 
 
'HEN I went for the good-night 
 kiss just now, 
 I found my child, pyjama clad, 
 Sitting up in bed. 
 
 Her shoulders looked so very small. 
 Her face so old and wise, 
 I knelt and put my arms about her 
 While I waited for the lesson 
 That I knew I was to learn. 
 
 "I've sat and waited for you, 
 
 Little mother," she said, 
 
 "Because I want to say God bless you 
 
 Before I go to sleep. 
 
 Dream of birds and flowers and things-^ 
 
 It makes one feel so glad 
 
 In the morning time." 
 
 [47] 
 
T is strange that my child should 
 not care for her dolls. 
 She'd rather be outdoors, 
 However cold or wet the day may be. 
 She says she likes to see things live, 
 And I believe it's true 
 That she does really see 
 With her keen little eyes 
 The grass and the trees and the flowers 
 
 all grow. 
 
 [48] 
 
0-DAY I took my child to walk 
 
 ■MjJjjP In the park. As usual 
 
 People turned to look at her, 
 But for the first time she was conscious. 
 A pucker came between her eyes, 
 Her face grew serious in thought. 
 Finally she said, 
 "Little mother, do you see 
 How the people look*? 
 I think the reason must be this — ■ 
 They all want little daughters." 
 
 [49] 
 
Y child came running into my 
 room, 
 
 Singing a half formed tune 
 That was no song. 
 Her sun-kissed curls 
 Fell over her ears 
 And forehead and cheeks 
 In happy disarray. 
 Her eyes, that look so deep 
 Below the outer seeming, 
 Sparkled and danced, 
 While wondering still 
 As at some new-found knowledge. 
 
 She stood before me in elfin beauty. 
 
 "Little mother," she said, 
 
 "I have been in the woods where the fairies 
 
 dance 
 And the flowers and the trees and the birds 
 
 all sing 
 In tune with the wind. 
 
 [50] 
 
I caught a purple butterfly, 
 And he told me such strange things; 
 He told me he was my own brother. 
 Is he, little mother?" 
 
 C51J 
 
HE beautiful big lady" 
 
 Children call her, half in awe 
 At her unmarried coldness. 
 
 To-day I took my child to see her — 
 
 Wondering. 
 
 She sat in her chair 
 
 Dignified and masterful. 
 
 I watched my child, 
 
 Who stood and looked at her a time 
 
 With half -closed eyes, 
 
 Then with that winsome grace, 
 
 Which is my child's, 
 
 She walked up to her where she sat, 
 
 Found a badly hidden curl, 
 
 Plucked it in her fingers, 
 
 Smiled and said, 
 
 "I love you, won't you kiss me?" 
 
 [p] 
 
g^TTp^Y child brought me posies to-day, 
 Gathered in her woods — 
 
 A gift of errant blossoms 
 Kissed by the sun. 
 Dainty and wild they were, 
 Fragrant and capricious, 
 Natural and unpretentious. 
 They seemed to me to be just like 
 Her little self. 
 
 153] 
 
LOOK at my child, 
 
 So happy and free at her play, 
 
 And I long to shield her 
 From every knowledge that hurts 
 And every sorrow and care. 
 But I know that such wishing is vain, 
 That life has its lessons for each one to 
 
 learn ; 
 And my work is to give her the strength 
 
 and the poise 
 That will carry her through — ■> 
 Whatever comes. 
 
 T«J 
 
^ITTLE mother, come and see 
 What my Uncle George has 
 brought me 
 In his pocket. 
 
 A queer little man in a queer little dress, 
 And such a funny face. 
 Uncle said he found him 
 In some land away across the sea. 
 I never saw a man like him before. 
 I wonder if he has a soul?" 
 
 [55] 
 
CAME across her unaware one day 
 In the woods. 
 
 I stood behind a clump of laurels 
 And watched and listened. 
 Bareheaded she was and barefooted, 
 While in her hand she held, as part 
 
 of her, 
 A bunch of yellow buttercups. 
 Her silvery laugh rang out 
 As she stooped to speak to some fairy 
 
 friend 
 Unseen by me. 
 
 And then she began to dance, 
 With hands outstretched as though she 
 
 held 
 The hands of other children. 
 Snatches of song escaped her lips 
 In little ripples. 
 
 Free and lithe her body swayed, 
 Her toes scarce touched the grass. 
 It was a dance I did not know, 
 Yet vaguely seemed to remember. 
 
 [56] 
 
A happy sadness filled my heart 
 As I stealthily crept away, 
 Leaving her undisturbed — 
 My fairy child. 
 
 [57] 
 
FOUND my child in my room 
 When I came from town. 
 She hugged and kissed me, then 
 she said, 
 
 "Little mother, you were gone 
 
 Such a long, long time. 
 
 I've looked at all the papers on your desk. 
 
 I couldn't read them all, 
 
 But there is something I am sure 
 
 You've written all for me; 
 
 Because I saw where you had put 
 
 'Child' and Tittle mother.' " 
 
 [58] 
 
JgSfcpgjHIS morning I was wakened 
 mXrM By a touch upon my cheek, 
 
 A touch so light, so gentle 
 That I knew it could be nought 
 Save the slender dainty fingers 
 Of my child. 
 
 In her little pink pyjamas, 
 With bare feet and crumpled hair, 
 She stood beside my bed, 
 While a bright impatient smile 
 Lit her face with eagerness. 
 "Little mother, do get up 
 And see the pretty sky; 
 The birds and flowers are all awake, 
 But you are lazy, dear." 
 
 [59] 
 
OW pretty you are, little 
 
 mother," 
 She said to me to-day, 
 Admiringly. 
 
 Now I am considered to be plain 
 By other women. 
 
 And so I wondered what my child 
 Found in me of beauty — 
 Beauty that I lacked to others. 
 Then I remembered our closeness, 
 The love of mother and child. 
 How could we be aught but beautiful, 
 One to the other ? 
 
 [60] 
 
0-DAY I was ill. 
 
 MJNJjjjp My child came and sat by my 
 ^^ side, 
 Stroked my hand, 
 Kissed my brow, 
 Tucked the rug about me closer, 
 Placed another pillow, 
 Smiled. 
 
 It was as though our kinship were re- 
 versed: 
 She became my little mother, 
 I her child. 
 
 I gave myself to her tender care, 
 While all around me she shed 
 A wondrous light of love 
 That healed me. 
 
 [61] 
 
I HE walls are a delicate tint, 
 The chairs and table white. 
 The little desk in the corner 
 
 Is covered with pages of lessons 
 
 (Shockingly scratched and blotted) 
 
 And drawings laboriously traced. 
 
 Books of fairy lore 
 
 Fill the little set of shelves. 
 
 Over the mantel an angel of bronze 
 
 Hangs suspended, 
 
 Holding a globe of light ; 
 
 While through the broad uncurtained win- 
 dow 
 
 The sunshine streams. 
 
 Flitting about the room, 
 
 Like a butterfly, 
 
 Is its little mistress — 
 
 My child. 
 
 [62] 
 
HE came in swinging her hat in 
 her hand; 
 Her feet were bare, 
 Her dress was torn, 
 Her hair stood out and up and down 
 In tangled mad confusion, 
 While on her lips was a dreaming smile, 
 Touched with wildness. 
 
 "Where have you been, my child?" I 
 
 asked. 
 "Oh, little mother, can't you guess? 
 I've been to romp with the wind, 
 And he played such pranks on me! 
 We ran a race— 
 Oh, what a race ! 
 
 But I fell down and then he won. 
 Wasn't it a pity, dear ?" 
 
 [63] 
 
SCOLDED my child last night 
 For a fault she did not commit. 
 And now I wonder 
 
 Who suffered the most, 
 
 She or I. 
 
 She stood very straight, 
 
 But she quivered with pain, 
 
 And her brown eyes widened 
 
 In hurt surprise. 
 
 "Little mother," she said, 
 
 And her voice was low, 
 
 "I think you have been mistaken, 
 
 Or else you have not understood." 
 
 How keen the accusation 
 
 That can come from the lips of a child 
 
 In words of love! 
 
 [64] 
 
i HE sat in my big arm chair, 
 Spelling out the words 
 Of a fairy tale, 
 
 Asking every now and then 
 
 The meaning of some term. 
 
 Suddenly I noticed that the questions 
 ceased, 
 
 And looked to see the reason why. 
 
 The book lay open on her lap, 
 
 But her head had dropped — 
 
 A mass of sunlit curls — 
 
 On to the arm of the chair. 
 
 [65]' 
 
HEREVER she goes, 
 
 This child of mine, 
 
 She carries a blessing of joy. 
 Sorrow cannot live in her presence ; 
 For under her carefully chiseled features 
 There lies a beauty 
 Of spirit, 
 That touches people's souls. 
 
 [66] 
 
HE'S gone to pay a visit 
 To her aunt. 
 
 At first I felt I couldn't bear it, 
 The house seemed to grow so dark 
 And still. 
 
 But this morning I got a letter 
 In her quaint dear unformed writing. 
 The joy it expressed 
 Filled my heart 
 And made me glad again. 
 
 [67] 
 
O-DAY she came to me 
 With some trouble overbig 
 To her childish mind. 
 But when we had talked it over, 
 Sorted and discussed 
 The worth of each detail, 
 We found there was no trouble there at 
 
 all. 
 It was joy to see her face 
 Regain its sweet composure; 
 And her words were like a blessing 
 To my heart. 
 "I wonder, little mother, how other girls 
 
 can live, 
 For I am sure that no one has 
 A motherling like you." 
 
 [68] 
 
m 
 
 ^SjY child has gone away to school, 
 
 MM 
 
 Ah me ! how fast she grows. 
 
 It seems it was but yesterday 
 Her little golden head 
 Was cradled on my breast, 
 And she knew no life apart from me. 
 Now she must be taught by strangers, 
 Must live in new surroundings, 
 And make new friends. 
 I must stand aside 
 And let her learn from others. 
 But mine it is to give her still 
 That love and understanding, 
 That sympathy and comradeship 
 Which none but a mother can give. 
 
 [69]