A MOTHER’S GRIEF

To a great wide city all alone, Long, long ago went our baby queen— No name but hers on the white headstone, That gleams to the moon from its mound of green! None of her own did welcome her there— Not a grain of kindred dust doth wave In the flowers that out of the tears of despair Have arched a rainbow over her grave. Out from the shelter of loving arms, Out from the warmth of a mother’s breast, Heedless of darkness and night’s alarms, On to the silent city she pressed To take her place ’mong the mighty throng That people its myriad streets. Ah, me! I felt my God had done me a wrong, When He loosened love’s cords and set her free! And my passionate moan that broke in tears, Like a burdened wave on a desert shore, Seemed all too feeble to reach His ears And the pain grew old that my bosom bore; But the faith that I once had thought mine own Rose up to mock where it could not save, And my heart grew hard as the carven stone That was crushing my darling in her grave. Whenever a child’s sweet flower-like face Met mine, a sickness would o’er me creep, And I’d turn wild eyes to the lonely place Where she was lying alone—asleep. At strife was I with the world, and God Had drawn around Him an angry cloud; Earth held no green but the churchyard sod, And the daisies wore the gleam of a shroud. But a time there came when about my breast With a wand’ring touch small fingers stole, And feeble lips to its fountains pressed, And stirred with a vague sweet joy my soul; And the floodgates opened, and blessèd tears Of repentance fell from my eyes like rain, And after the barren and prayerless years I knelt to the Giver of All again!