University of Virginia Library


257

LXIV. A MOTHER TO HER NEW-BORN CHILD.

Sweet cry! as sacred as the blessed Hymn
Sung at Christ's birth by joyful Seraphim!
Exhausted nigh to death by that dread pain,
That voice salutes me to dear life again.
Ah, God!—my Child! my first, my living Child!
I have been dreaming of a thing like thee
Ere since, a babe, upon the mountains wild,
I nursed my mimic babe upon my knee.
In girlhood I had visions of thee; love
Came to my riper youth, and still I clove
Unto thine image, born within my brain;
So like!—as even there thy germ had lain!—
My blood! my voice! my thought! my dream achieved!—
O, till this double life, I have not lived!”