He wanders round the garden wild,
I hear him singing sweet;
I know it is my fairy child,
I hear his dancing feet.
Birds low warble in the nest,
Leaves murmur merrily;
My boy is leaning on the breast
Of God most tranquilly.
He gazes in deep eyes Divine,
With innocent clear eyes;
He is God's baby more than mine
The Father is all-wise.
Carol, my darling! laugh and leap!
For art thou not God's own? …
… Ah wildly, wildly must I weep
… God hath destroyed His son!
Stabbed with a sudden traitor thrust
The heart so unafraid!
Then dung him down into the dust,
To perish on the blade!
Earth felt, and, staggered with the blow,
Reeled shuddering under me!
Dead worlds, like shrivelled leaves, fell low
From Life’s uprooted tree!
How shall I name Thee, Thou Supreme?
Hate, Treachery, or Crime? …
… When may we rise from our dark dream
Beyond the bounds of Time? …
He is but folded closer still
Within the Father’s bosom,
Lest our earth airs may work him ill,
My baby boy, my blossom!