 | Western windows and other poems |  |
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FORESIGHT OF FATE.
Mother and Child walk in a path of flowers,
Through a bright garden tended by the Hours.
Through a bright garden tended by the Hours.
From gentle blossoms, fragrant-hearted there,
Birds, singing, lift the child's heart into air.
Birds, singing, lift the child's heart into air.
Some dreadful House before them grows, unknown:
A ghost of grated casements stares from stone!
A ghost of grated casements stares from stone!
Whence came the phantom?—what enchantment wild?
The Mother sees it not nor can the child.
The Mother sees it not nor can the child.
Lo, some lost face, haunting with dreamy glare
The darkness, looking through the darkness there!
The darkness, looking through the darkness there!
How strange if he, lost to himself within,
Were that same child pure as a rose from sin;
Were that same child pure as a rose from sin;
And if that face, through those fierce bars aglare,
Saw that same Child cling to that Mother's care!
Saw that same Child cling to that Mother's care!
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