Then, a little sad, Came my child in turn, O it did not burn! Mother, never mourn." William Barnes [1801-1886] THE LITTLE GHOST THE stars began to peep Bleat to their lambs astray. Her heart cried for her lamb Lapped cold in the churchyard sod, She heard the calling ewes And the lambs' answer, alas! She heard her heart's blood drip in the night As the ewes' milk on the grass. Her tears that burnt like fire So bitter and slow ran down She could not think on the new-washed children Oh who is this comes in Over her threshold stone? And why is the old dog wild with joy. Who all day long made moan? This fair little radiant ghost, Her one little son of seven, New 'scaped from the band of merry children In the nurseries of Heaven. Motherhood He was all clad in white Without a speck or stain; "Now come with me, my own mother, Oh, lightly sprang she up Nor waked her sleeping man, She is gone swift as a fawn, As a bird homes to its nest, She has seen them lie, the sleepy children At morning she came back; Her eyes were strange to see. However long it be. As she goes in and out She sings unto hersel'; For she has seen the mothers' children And knows that it is well. 303 Katharine Tynan [1861 MOTHERHOOD THE night throbs on; O, let me pray, dear lad! I cannot think that Thou hadst need of him! Give him to me he is not happy there! Hast Thou an angel there to mother him? What are my curses to Thee? Thou hast heard We have not ceased to threaten at Thy throne, See Thou tend him well, Thou God of all the mothers. If he lack Forgive me, Lord, but I am sick with grief, Thou art wise, I know, and tender, aye, and good, Ah, God, my child shall go Orphaned among the angels! All alone. So little and alone! He knows not Thee, THE MOTHER'S PRAYER THE good Lord gave, the Lord has taken from me, The Mother's Prayer 1 3395 Nay! I would not follow, though they did beseech me, For the angels come now waiting for my dead. Heaven's door is open, so my whispers soar there, While the gentle angels lift him from his bed. Oh Lord, when Thou gavest he was weak and helpless, Could not rise nor wander from my shielding arm; Lovely is he now and strong with four sweet summers, Laughing, running, tumbling, hard to keep from harm. If some tender mother, whose babe on earth is living, If upon her breast she holds his baby beauty, Wilful are his ways and full of merry mischief; If he prove unruly, lay the blame on me. Never did I chide him for his noise or riot, Smiled upon his folly, glad his joy to see. Each eve shall I come beside his bed so lowly; "Hush-a-by, my baby," softly shall I sing, So, if he be frightened, full of sleep and anger, The song he loved shall reach him and sure comfort bring. Lord, if in my praying, Thou shouldst hear me weeping, Ever was I wayward, always full of tears, Take no heed of this grief. Sweet the gift Thou gavest Do not, therefore, hold me to Thy will ungrateful: But 'tis lonely yet, Lord, by the little grave. Dora Sigerson Shorter [18 DA LEETLA BOY DA spreeng ees com'; but oh, da joy Eet ees too late! He was so cold, my leetla boy, I no can count how manny week, Eet hurts my throat for theenk of eet; But, ah! da night com' down an' den An' een da alley all da night Ees fall da snow, so cold, so white, An' cover up da leetla pot Of w'at-you-call?-forgat-me-not. All night da leetla hand I hold Ees grow so cold, so cold, so cold! Da spreeng ces com'; but, oh, da joy Eet ees too late! He was so cold, my leetla boy, He no could wait. Thomas Augustin Daly [:871 |