 | Poems by Julia C. R. Dorr |  |
233
TWENTY-ONE
Grown to man's stature! O my little child!
My bird that sought the skies so long ago!
My fair, sweet blossom, pure and undefiled,
How have the years flown since we laid thee low!
My bird that sought the skies so long ago!
My fair, sweet blossom, pure and undefiled,
How have the years flown since we laid thee low!
What have they been to thee? If thou wert here
Standing beside thy brothers, tall and fair,
With bearded lip, and dark eyes shining clear,
And glints of summer sunshine in thy hair,
Standing beside thy brothers, tall and fair,
With bearded lip, and dark eyes shining clear,
And glints of summer sunshine in thy hair,
I should look up into thy face and say,
Wavering, perhaps, between a tear and smile,
“O my sweet son, thou art a man to-day!”—
And thou wouldst stoop to kiss my lips the while.
Wavering, perhaps, between a tear and smile,
“O my sweet son, thou art a man to-day!”—
And thou wouldst stoop to kiss my lips the while.
But—up in heaven—how is it with thee, dear?
Art thou a man—to man's full stature grown?
Dost thou count time as we do, year by year?
And what of all earth's changes hast thou known?
Art thou a man—to man's full stature grown?
Dost thou count time as we do, year by year?
And what of all earth's changes hast thou known?
Thou hadst not learned to love me. Didst thou take
Any small germ of love to heaven with thee,
That thou hast watched and nurtured for my sake,
Waiting till I its perfect flower may see?
Any small germ of love to heaven with thee,
That thou hast watched and nurtured for my sake,
Waiting till I its perfect flower may see?
What is it to have lived in heaven always?
To have no memory of pain or sin?
Ne'er to have known in all the calm, bright days,
The jar and fret of earth's discordant din?
To have no memory of pain or sin?
Ne'er to have known in all the calm, bright days,
The jar and fret of earth's discordant din?
234
Thy brothers—they are mortal—they must tread
Ofttimes in rough, hard ways, with bleeding feet;
Must fight with dragons, must bewail their dead,
And fierce Apollyon face to face must meet.
Ofttimes in rough, hard ways, with bleeding feet;
Must fight with dragons, must bewail their dead,
And fierce Apollyon face to face must meet.
I, who would give my very life for theirs,
I cannot save them from earth's pain or loss;
I cannot shield them from its griefs or cares;
Each human heart must bear alone its cross!
I cannot save them from earth's pain or loss;
I cannot shield them from its griefs or cares;
Each human heart must bear alone its cross!
Was God, then, kinder unto thee than them,
O thou whose little life was but a span?—
Ah, think it not! In all his diadem
No star shines brighter than the kingly man,
O thou whose little life was but a span?—
Ah, think it not! In all his diadem
No star shines brighter than the kingly man,
Who nobly earns whatever crown he wears,
Who grandly conquers, or as grandly dies;
And the white banner of his manhood bears,
Through all the years uplifted to the skies!
Who grandly conquers, or as grandly dies;
And the white banner of his manhood bears,
Through all the years uplifted to the skies!
What lofty pæans shall the victor greet!
What crown resplendent for his brow be fit!
O child, if earthly life be bitter-sweet,
Hast thou not something missed in missing it?
What crown resplendent for his brow be fit!
O child, if earthly life be bitter-sweet,
Hast thou not something missed in missing it?
| Poems by Julia C. R. Dorr | |