ROCKING THE BABY.

I hear her rocking the baby— Her room is just next to mine— And I fancy I feel the dimpled arms That round her neck entwine, As she rocks, and rocks the baby, In the room just next to mine. I hear her rocking the baby Each day when the twilight comes, And I know there's a world of blessing and love In the "baby bye" she hums. I can see the restless fingers Playing with "mamma's rings," And the sweet little smiling, pouting mouth, That to hers in kissing clings, As she rocks and sings to the baby, And dreams as she rocks and sings.

I hear her rocking the baby, Slower and slower now, And I know she is leaving her good-night kiss On its eyes, and cheek, and brow From her rocking, rocking, rocking, I wonder would she start, Could she know, through the wall between us, She is rocking on a heart. While my empty arms are aching For a form they may not press And my emptier heart is breaking In its desolate loneliness I list to the rocking, rocking, In the room just next to mine, And breathe a prayer in silence, At a mother's broken shrine, For the woman who rocks her baby In the room just next to mine.