 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
July, 18—
O my baby, my baby! O sweet sunbeam of bliss!
Brightening my earth for a moment as with a heaven-sealing kiss:
Oh the sweet smile on his lips! it haunts me by night and day!
All his brief life was a smile that slowly faded away,
As if he just looked in on us here, on his heavenward road,
And saw that we were not meet to rear up the child of God.
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Child of mine to the host that serve and praise in heaven!
He did not need to be christened, his robes were clean and white,
Touching the earth but a moment, he passed to the realm of light.
Sometimes I shudder to think of the earth and the little grave
Under the great church tower where the budding poplars wave.
O my baby, my baby! whether in heaven or there,
Why am I here, and my baby left with no mother's care?
I thought I was dying at one time—would I were dying to-day;
O my baby, how could the Father take thee away?
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |