MOTHERHOOD.

From out the font of being, undefiled,

A life hath been upheaved with struggle and pain;

Safe in her arms a mother holds again

That dearest miracle — a new-born child.

To moans of anguish terrible and wild —

As shrieks the night-wind through an ill-shut pane —

Pure heaven succeeds; and after fiery strain

Victorious woman smiles serenely mild.

Yea, shall she not rejoice, shall not her frame

Thrill with a mystic rapture! At this birth,

The soul now kindled by her vital flame

May it not prove a gift of priceless worth?

Some saviour of his kind whose starry fame

Shall bring a brightness to the darkened earth.