TO A BABY KINSWOMAN

Love, whose light thrills heaven and earth,

Smiles and weeps upon thy birth,

Child, whose mother's love-lit eyes

Watch thee but from Paradise.

Sweetest sight that earth can give,

Sweetest light of eyes that live,

Ours must needs, for hope withdrawn,

Hail with tears thy soft spring dawn.

Light of hope whose star hath set,

Light of love whose sun lives yet,

Holier, happier, heavenlier love

Breathes about thee, burns above,

Surely, sweet, than ours can be,

Shed from eyes we may not see,

Though thine own may see them shine

Night and day, perchance, on thine.

Sun and moon that lighten earth

Seem not fit to bless thy birth:

Scarce the very stars we know

Here seem bright enough to show

Whence in unimagined skies

Glows the vigil of such eyes.

Theirs whose heart is as a sea

Swoln with sorrowing love of thee

Fain would share with thine the sight

Seen alone of babes aright,

Watched of eyes more sweet than flowers

Sleeping or awake: but ours

Can but deem or dream or guess

Thee not wholly motherless.

Might they see or might they know

What nor faith nor hope may show,

We whose hearts yearn toward thee now

Then were blest and wise as thou.

Had we half thy knowledge,— had

Love such wisdom,— grief were glad,

Surely, lit by grace of thee;

Life were sweet as death may be.

Now the law that lies on men

Bids us mourn our dead: but then

Heaven and life and earth and death,

Quickened as by God's own breath,

All were turned from sorrow and strife:

Earth and death were heaven and life.

All too far are then and now

Sundered: none may be as thou.

Yet this grace is ours — a sign

Of that goodlier grace of thine,

Sweet, and thine alone — to see

Heaven, and heaven's own love, in thee.

Bless them, then, whose eyes caress

Thee, as only thou canst bless.

Comfort, faith, assurance, love,

Shine around us, brood above,

Fear grows hope, and hope grows wise,

Thrilled and lit by children's eyes.

Yet in ours the tears unshed,

Child, for hope that death leaves dead,

Needs must burn and tremble; thou

Knowest not, seest not, why nor how,

More than we know whence or why

Comes on babes that laugh and lie

Half asleep, in sweet-lipped scorn,

Light of smiles outlightening morn,

Whence enkindled as is earth

By the dawn's less radiant birth

All the body soft and sweet

Smiles on us from face to feet

When the rose-red hands would fain

Reach the rose-red feet in vain.

Eyes and hands that worship thee

Watch and tend, adore and see

All these heavenly sights, and give

Thanks to see and love and live.

Yet, of all that hold thee dear,

Sweet, the dearest smiles not here.

Thine alone is now the grace,

Haply, still to see her face;

Thine, thine only now the sight

Whence we dream thine own takes light.

Yet, though faith and hope live blind,

Yet they live in heart and mind

Strong and keen as truth may be:

Yet, though blind as grief were we

Inly for a weeping-while,

Sorrow's self before thy smile

Smiles and softens, knowing that yet,

Far from us though heaven be set,

Love, bowed down for thee to bless,

Dares not call thee motherless.