THE GIFT OF JUNO

Already‘ neath the morning star

The shrine, by Juno's favor blest,

Had flashed its whiteness from afar,

Resplendent on a mountain's crest,

Along whose base the ocean rolled

A flood of sapphire, flecked with gold.

In twilight still the shore remained;

But, toiling upward through the night,

A wistful mother had just gained

The summit of the sacred height,

Where Juno's far-famed statue stood,—

Palladium of motherhood.

At her approach the bolts were drawn,

And inward swung the temple gate,

Revealing in the light of dawn

The marble form immaculate,

The effigy of heaven's queen,

Sublime, beneficent, serene.

Slow-moving and with fluttering heart,

The youthful matron onward passed

To where that masterpiece of art

Repaid her arduous toil at last;

As, gazing through a mist of tears,

She realized here the dream of years.

Beside her, one on either hand,

Two little children stood in fear,

Unable yet to understand

The reason of their coming here;

Both beautiful in form and face,

True types of the Hellenic race.

No fairer pilgrims ever came

Within the temple's stately door;

No sweeter picture could it frame

Than that upon its marble floor,

When, in the hush of dawning day,

The lovely trio knelt to pray.

“Immortal goddess, not in vain

Do mothers lift their souls to thee;

Their love, their hopes, their fears, their pain

Thy heart can feel, thine eyes can see;

Deign, therefore, my sweet babes to bless,

O Juno, fount of tenderness!

“To thy divine, all-seeing eyes

The course of every life is clear;

I pray thee, note what future lies

Before these helpless children here;

Then, of the gifts by thee possessed,

Give them but one; choose thou the best!”

She paused, and waited for reply,

While solemn stillness filled the shrine;

Heard something like a gentle sigh,

Or passing of a breath divine;

Then saw their eyes, like petals, close

In death's sweet, statue-like repose.

Repose, unbroken evermore!

The world of suffering still unknown!

Escaping through that peaceful door

From every ill life might have shown.

Heart-broken mother, cease to weep!

The best was given them,— dreamless sleep.