 | The high-top sweeting And Other Poems |  |
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WIDOW AND ORPHAN.
Slowly the sad night, like a mournful wraith,
Treads out the daylight, quenching hope and faith;
Under the pine-tree we linger, you and I,
While the sky darkens and the winds go by.
Baby, my baby! shake the blossoms from your hair;
Baby, my baby! there be thorns to wear!
Treads out the daylight, quenching hope and faith;
Under the pine-tree we linger, you and I,
While the sky darkens and the winds go by.
Baby, my baby! shake the blossoms from your hair;
Baby, my baby! there be thorns to wear!
Shrouding the shut eyes, keeping out the light,
Cold, cold and heavy, press the sods to-night,
Freezing the still heart, whence all the warmth is gone,—
Gone, though he said he would love us on and on.
Baby, my baby! cold and dark the world has grown;
Baby, my baby! how shall we live alone?
Cold, cold and heavy, press the sods to-night,
Freezing the still heart, whence all the warmth is gone,—
Gone, though he said he would love us on and on.
Baby, my baby! cold and dark the world has grown;
Baby, my baby! how shall we live alone?
Oh, could we, heaping the cruel earth apart,
Find the dead flowers lying on his heart,
Press the pale lips, which always smiled before,
Kiss the dear hands, which bless us now no more!
Baby, my baby! once he loved us more than all.
Baby, my baby! does he hear our call?
Find the dead flowers lying on his heart,
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Kiss the dear hands, which bless us now no more!
Baby, my baby! once he loved us more than all.
Baby, my baby! does he hear our call?
Oh, I could gladly, here beneath the trees,
Wear out these grave-sods with beseeching knees,
Only to make him hear my voice again,
Only to tell him all this love and pain.
Baby, my baby! half my love was never said.
Baby, my baby! how shall we wake the dead?
Wear out these grave-sods with beseeching knees,
Only to make him hear my voice again,
Only to tell him all this love and pain.
Baby, my baby! half my love was never said.
Baby, my baby! how shall we wake the dead?
Oh, could we find him by searching every mile
Of earth's broad bosom,—every sea and isle,
All scorching deserts, every coast and clime,—
How we should triumph, and conquer space and time!
Baby, my baby! we could walk the wide world through.
Baby, my baby! it were not much to do!
Of earth's broad bosom,—every sea and isle,
All scorching deserts, every coast and clime,—
How we should triumph, and conquer space and time!
Baby, my baby! we could walk the wide world through.
Baby, my baby! it were not much to do!
Oh, could we wake him by a thousand years'
Watching and waiting, and weeping bitter tears,
How should our patience, without loss or lack,
Wear out the ages, and bring our darling back!
Baby, my baby! Love and Hope and Faith are strong.
Baby, my baby! ages are not long!
Watching and waiting, and weeping bitter tears,
How should our patience, without loss or lack,
Wear out the ages, and bring our darling back!
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Baby, my baby! ages are not long!
But the forever! O endless waste of pain!
O thou dear Silent, who answerest not again,
All the grave's darkness, all death's bitterest strife,
All cannot equal this lonesome night of life!
Baby, my baby! will the morning ever break?
Baby, my baby! when shall we awake?
O thou dear Silent, who answerest not again,
All the grave's darkness, all death's bitterest strife,
All cannot equal this lonesome night of life!
Baby, my baby! will the morning ever break?
Baby, my baby! when shall we awake?
| The high-top sweeting And Other Poems | |