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第57节

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Yet when my eyes; now dim

With tears; I turn to him;

The vision vanishes; … he is not there!



I walk my parlor floor;

And; through the open door;

I hear a footfall on the chamber stair;

I'm stepping toward the hall

To give my boy a call;

And then bethink me that … he is not there!



I thread the crowded street;

A satchelled lad I meet;

With the same beaming eyes and colored hair;

And; as he's running by;

Follow him with my eye;

Scarcely believing that … he is not there!



I know his face is hid

Under the coffin…lid;

Closed are his eyes; cold is his forehead fair;

My hand that marble felt;

O'er it in prayer I knelt;

Yet my heart whispers that … he is not there!



I cannot make him dead!

When passing by the bed;

So long watched over with parental care;

My spirit and my eye;

Seek him inquiringly;

Before the thought comes that … he is not there!



When; at the cool gray break

Of day; from sleep I wake;

With my first breathing of the morning air

My soul goes up; with joy;

To Him who gave my boy;

Then comes the sad thought that … he is not there!





When at the day's calm close;

Before we seek repose;

I'm with his mother; offering up our prayer;

Whate'er I may be saying;

I am; in spirit; praying

For our boy's spirit; though … he is not there!



Not there! … Where; then; is he?

The form I used to see

Was but the raiment that he used to wear。

The grave; that now doth press

Upon that cast…off dress;

Is but his wardrobe locked; … he is not there!



He lives! … In all the past

He lives; nor; to the last;

Of seeing him again will I despair;

In dreams I see him now;

And on his angel brow;

I see it written; 〃Thou shalt see me there!〃



Yes; we all live to God!

Father; thy chastening rod

So help us; thine afflicted ones; to bear;

That; in the spirit…land;

Meeting at thy right hand;

'Twill be our heaven to find that … he is there!



John Pierpont '1785…1866'





THE CHILD'S WISH GRANTED



Do you remember; my sweet; absent son;

How in the soft June days forever done

You loved the heavens so warm and clear and high;

And when I lifted you; soft came your cry; …

〃Put me 'way up … 'way; 'way up in blue sky〃?



I laughed and said I could not; … set you down;

Your gray eyes wonder…filled beneath that crown

Of bright hair gladdening me as you raced by。

Another Father now; more strong than I;

Has borne you voiceless to your dear blue sky。



George Parsons Lathrop '1851…1898'





CHALLENGE



This little child; so white; so calm;

Decked for her grave;

Encountered death without a qualm。

Are you as brave?



So small; and armed with naught beside

Her mother's kiss;

Alone she stepped; unterrified;

Into the abyss。



〃Ah;〃 you explain; 〃she did not know …

This babe of four …

Just what it signifies to go。〃

Do you know more?



Kenton Foster Murray '18 …





TIRED MOTHERS



A little elbow leans upon your knee;

Your tired knee that has so much to bear;

A child's dear eyes are looking lovingly

From underneath a thatch of tangled hair。

Perhaps you do not heed the velvet touch

Of warm; moist fingers; folding yours so tight;

You do not prize this blessing overmuch; …

You almost are too tired to pray to…night。



But it is blessedness!  A year ago

I did not see it as I do to…day; …

We are so dull and thankless; and too slow

To catch the sunshine till it slips away。

And now it seems surpassing strange to me

That; while I wore the badge of motherhood;

I did not kiss more oft and tenderly

The little child that brought me only good。



And if some night when you sit down to rest;

You miss this elbow from your tired knee; …

This restless; curling head from off your breast …

This lisping tongue that chatters constantly;

If from your own the dimpled hands had slipped;

And ne'er would nestle in your palm again;

If the white feet into; their grave had tripped;

I could not blame you for your heartache then!



I wonder so that mothers ever fret

At little children clinging to their gown;

Or that the footprints; when the days are wet;

Are ever black enough to make them frown。

If I could find a little muddy boot;

Or cap; or jacket; on my chamber…floor; …

If I could kiss a rosy; restless foot;

And hear its patter in my house once more; …



If I could mend a broken cart to…day;

To…morrow make a kite to reach the sky;

There is no woman in God's world could say

She was more blissfully content than I。

But ah! the dainty pillow next my own

Is never rumpled by a shining head;

My singing birdling from its nest has flown;

The little boy I used to kiss is dead。



May Riley Smith '1842…1927'





MY DAUGHTER LOUISE



In the light of the moon; by the side of the water;

My seat on the sand and her seat on my knees;

We watch the bright billows; do I and my daughter;

My sweet little daughter Louise。

We wonder what city the pathway of glory;

That broadens away to the limitless west;

Leads up to … she minds her of some pretty story

And says: 〃To the city that mortals love best。〃

Then I say: 〃It must lead to the far away city;

The beautiful City of Rest。〃



In the light of the moon; by the side of the water;

Stand two in the shadow of whispering trees;

And one loves my daughter; my beautiful daughter;

My womanly daughter Louise。

She steps to the boat with a touch of his fingers;

And out on the diamonded pathway they move;

The shallop is lost in the distance; it lingers;

It waits; but I know that its coming will prove

That it went to the walls of the wonderful city;

The magical City of Love。



In the light of the moon; by the side of the water;

I wait for her coming from over the seas;

I wait but to welcome the dust of my daughter;

To weep for my daughter Louise。

The path; as of old; reaching out in its splendor;

Gleams bright; like a way that an angel has trod;

I kiss the cold burden its billows surrender;

Sweet clay to lie under the pitiful sod:

But she rests; at the end of the path; in the city

Whose 〃builder and maker is God。〃



Homer Greene '1853…





〃I AM LONELY〃

From 〃The Spanish Gypsy〃



The world is great: the birds all fly from me;

The stars are golden fruit upon a tree

All out of reach: my little sister went;

And I am lonely。



The world is great: I tried to mount the hill

Above the pines; where the light lies so still;

But it rose higher: little Lisa went

And I am lonely。



The world is great: the wind comes rushing by。

I wonder where it comes from; sea birds cry

And hurt my heart: my little sister went;

And I am lonely。



The world is great: the people laugh and talk;

And make loud holiday: how fast they walk!

I'm lame; they push me: little Lisa went;

And I am lonely。



George Eliot '1819…1880'





SONNETS

From 〃Mimma Bella〃



I

Have dark Egyptians stolen Thee away;

Oh Baby; Baby; in whose cot we peer

As down some empty gulf that opens sheer

And fathomless; illumined by no ray?

And wilt thou come; on some far distant day;

With unknown face; and say; 〃Behold! I'm here;

The child you lost;〃 while we in sudden fear;

Dumb with great doubt; shall find no word to say?

One darker than dark gipsy holds thee fast;

One whose strong fingers none has forced apart

Since first they closed on things that were too fair;

Nor shall we see thee other than thou wast;

But such as thou art printed in the heart;

In changeless baby loveliness still there。



II

Two springs she saw … two radiant Tuscan springs;

What time the wild red tulips are aflame

In the new wheat; and wreaths of young vine frame

The daffodils that every light breeze swings;

And the anemones that April brings

Make purple pools; as if Adonis came

Just there to die; and Florence scrolls her name

In every blossom Primavera flings。

Now; when the scented iris; straight and tall;

Shall hedge the garden gravel once again

With pale blue flags; at May's exulting call;

And when the amber roses; wet with rain;

Shall tapestry the old gray villa wall; 

We; left alone; shall seek one bud in vain。



IV

Oh; rosy as the lining of a shell

Were the wee hands that now are white as snows;

And like pink coral; with their elfin toes;

The feet that on life's brambles never fell。

And with its tiny smile; adorable

The mouth that never knew life's bitter sloes;

And like the incurved petal of a rose

The little ear; now deaf in Death's strong spell。

Now; while the seasons in their order roll;

And sun and rain pour down from God's great dome;

And deathless stars shine nightly overhead;

Near other children; with her little doll;

She waits the wizard that will never come

To wake the sleep…struck playground of the dead。



VI

Oh; bless the law that veils the Future's face;

For who could smile into a baby's eyes;

Or bear t

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