 | The Vale of Arden and Other Poems |  |
46
IN THE HOUSE OF DEATH
I.
With tears they bring her babe to smile
The last farewell; by childhood's grace,
In death's dark presence-hall awhile
There shines a cloudless face.
The last farewell; by childhood's grace,
In death's dark presence-hall awhile
There shines a cloudless face.
Too young to know the awful bar
That keeps him from those lips so white,
He wafts a baby kiss—sweet star
Unconscious of the night—
That keeps him from those lips so white,
He wafts a baby kiss—sweet star
Unconscious of the night—
And stretches dimpled hands to grasp
The lilies on her breast, nor knows
How cold the hands their stems that clasp,
How deep the breast's repose.
The lilies on her breast, nor knows
How cold the hands their stems that clasp,
How deep the breast's repose.
47
Poor helpless author of our dole,
Who ne'er shall lisp a mother's name,
God keep him, till he meet her soul
From whom he dearly came.
Who ne'er shall lisp a mother's name,
God keep him, till he meet her soul
From whom he dearly came.
II.
Beside her fretful infant's cot
The father bows his stricken head;
One lieth near, whose sleep will not
Be more disquieted.
The father bows his stricken head;
One lieth near, whose sleep will not
Be more disquieted.
The daylight faileth; colourless
Are all things in the darkening room;
Such nightfall doth his soul possess,
Such dumb and hueless gloom.
Are all things in the darkening room;
Such nightfall doth his soul possess,
Such dumb and hueless gloom.
With trembling hands the child he takes;
He moans a verse the happy wife
Would croon; then heaves a sob that shakes
The very roots of life.
He moans a verse the happy wife
Would croon; then heaves a sob that shakes
The very roots of life.
48
O little arms around him curled,
Cling closer to what love is left;
Thou dost not know of what a world
Of love thou art bereft.
Cling closer to what love is left;
Thou dost not know of what a world
Of love thou art bereft.
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