the home book of verse-1-第55节
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Thou art wise； I know； and tender； aye； and good；
Thou hast my child； and he is safe in Thee；
And I believe …
Ah； God； my child shall go
Orphaned among the angels！ All alone。
So little and alone！ He knows not Thee；
He only knows his mother … give him back。
Josephine Daskam Bacon ＇1876…
THE MOTHER'S PRAYER
The good Lord gave； the Lord has taken from me；
Blessed be His name； His holy will be done。
The mourners all have gone； all save I； his mother；
The little grave lies lonely in the sun。
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；
Takes his little hand to guide his stranger feet
'Mid the countless hosts that cross the floor of heaven；
Thou wilt not reprove her for Thy pity sweet。
If upon her breast she holds his baby beauty；
All his golden hair will fall about her hand；
Laughing let her fingers pull it into ringlets …
Long and lovely ringlets。 She will understand。
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
All the cherished treasure of those golden years。
Do not； therefore； hold me to Thy will ungrateful：
Soon I shall stand upright； smiling； strong； and brave；
With a son in heaven the sad earth forgetting；
But 'tis lonely yet； Lord； by the little grave。
Oh； 'tis lonely； lonely； by the little grave！
Dora Sigerson Shorter ＇1862…1918＇
DA LEETLA BOY
Da spreeng ees com'； but oh； da joy
Eet ees too late！
He was so cold； my leetla boy；
He no could wait。
I no can count how manny week；
How manny day； dat he ees seeck；
How manny night I seet an' hold
Da leetla hand dat was so cold。
He was so patience； oh； so sweet！
Eet hurts my throat for theenk of eet；
An' all he evra ask ees w'en
Ees gona com' da spreeng agen。
Wan day； wan brighta sunny day；
He see； across da alleyway；
Da leetla girl dat's livin' dere
Ees raise her window for da air；
An' put outside a leetla pot
Of … w'at…you…call？ … forgat…me…not。
So smalla flower； so leetla theeng！
But steell eet mak' hees hearta seeng：
〃Oh； now； at las'； ees com' da spreeng！
Da leetla plant ees glad for know
Da sun ees com' for mak' eet grow。
So； too； I am grow warm and strong。〃
So lika dat he seeng hees song。
But； ah！ da night com' down an' den
Da weenter ees sneak back agen；
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 ees com'； but； oh； da joy
Eet ees too late！
He was so cold； my leetla boy；
He no could wait。
Thomas Augustin Daly ＇1871…
ON THE MOOR
I
I met a child upon the moor
A…wading down the heather；
She put her hand into my own；
We crossed the fields together。
I led her to her father's door …
A cottage midst the clover。
I left her … and the world grew poor
To me； a childless rover。
II
I met a maid upon the moor；
The morrow was her wedding。
Love lit her eyes with lovelier hues
Than the eve…star was shedding。
She looked a sweet good…bye to me；
And o'er the stile went singing。
Down all the lonely night I heard
But bridal bells a…ringing。
III
I met a mother on the moor；
By a new grave a…praying。
The happy swallows in the blue
Upon the winds were playing。
〃Would I were in his grave；〃 I said；
〃And he beside her standing！〃
There was no heart to break if death
For me had made demanding。
Cale Young Rice ＇1872…
EPITAPH OF DIONYSIA
Here doth Dionysia lie：
She whose little wanton foot；
Tripping （ah； too carelessly！）
Touched this tomb； and fell into 't。
Trip no more shall she； nor fall。
And her trippings were so few！
Summers only eight in all
Had the sweet child wandered through。
But； already； life's few suns
Love's strong seeds had ripened warm。
All her ways were winning ones；
All her cunning was to charm。
And the fancy； in the flower；
While the flesh was in the bud；
Childhood's dawning sex did dower
With warm gusts of womanhood。
Oh what joys by hope begun；
Oh what kisses kissed by thought；
What love…deeds by fancy done；
Death to endless dust hath wrought！
Had the fates been kind as thou；
Who； till now； was never cold；
Once Love's aptest scholar； now
Thou hadst been his teacher bold；
But； if buried seeds upthrow
Fruits and flowers； if flower and fruit
By their nature fitly show
What the seeds are； whence they shoot；
Dionysia； o'er this tomb；
Where thy buried beauties be；
From their dust shall spring and bloom
Loves and graces like to thee。
Unknown
FOR CHARLIE'S SAKE
The night is late； the house is still；
The angels of the hour fulfil
Their tender ministries； and move
From couch to couch in cares of love。
They drop into thy dreams； sweet wife；
The happiest smile of Charlie's life；
And lay on baby's lips a kiss；
Fresh from his angel…brother's bliss；
And； as they pass； they seem to make
A strange； dim hymn； 〃For Charlie's sake。〃
My listening heart takes up the strain；
And gives it to the night again；
Fitted with words of lowly praise；
And patience learned of mournful days；
And memories of the dead child's ways。
His will be done； His will be done！
Who gave and took away my son；
In 〃the far land〃 to shine and sing
Before the Beautiful； the King；
Who every day doth Christmas make；
All starred and belled for Charlie's sake。
For Charlie's sake I will arise；
I will anoint me where he lies；
And change my raiment； and go in
To the Lord's house； and leave my sin
Without； and seat me at his board；
Eat； and be glad； and praise the Lord。
For wherefore should I fast and weep；
And sullen moods of mourning keep？
I cannot bring him back； nor he；
For any calling； come to me。
The bond the angel Death did sign；
God sealed … for Charlie's sake； and mine。
I'm very poor … this slender stone
Marks all the narrow field I own；
Yet； patient husbandman； I till
With faith and prayers； that precious hill；
Sow it with penitential pains；
And； hopeful； wait the latter rains；
Content if； after all； the spot
Yield barely one forget…me…not …
Whether or figs or thistles make
My crop； content for Charlie's sake。
I have no houses； builded well …
Only that little lonesome cell；
Where never romping playmates come；
Nor bashful sweethearts； cunning…dumb …
An April burst of girls and boys；
Their rainbowed cloud of glooms and joys
Born with their songs； gone with their toys；
Nor ever is its stillness stirred
By purr of cat； or chirp of bird；
Or mother's twilight legend； told
Of Horner's pie； or Tiddler's gold；
Or fairy hobbling to the door；
Red…cloaked and weird； banned and poor；
To bless the good child's gracious eyes；
The good child's wistful charities；
And crippled changeling's hunch to make
Dance on his crutch； for good child's sake。
How is it with the child？ 'Tis well；
Nor would I any miracle
Might stir my sleeper's tranquil trance；
Or plague his painless countenance：
I would not any seer might place
His staff on my immortal's face；
Or lip to lip； and eye to eye；
Charm back his pale mortality。
No； Shunamite！ I would not break
God's stillness。 Let them weep who wake。
For Charlie's sake my lot is blest：
No comfort like his mother's breast；
No praise like hers； no charm expressed
In fairest forms hath half her zest。
For Charlie's sake this bird's caressed
That death left lonely in the nest；
For Charlie's sake my heart is dressed；
As for its birthday； in its best；
For Charlie's sake we leave the rest
To Him who gave； and who did take；
And saved us twice； for Charlie's sake。
John Williamson Palmer ＇1825…1906＇
〃ARE THE CHILDREN AT HOME？〃
Each day； when the glow of sunset
Fades in the western sky；
And the wee ones； tired of playing；
Go tripping lightly by；
I steal away from my husband；
Asleep in his eas
