Page:Barham Beach - a poem of regeneration.djvu/40

A second time was ours, to be caressed,
Nursed, all but worshipped, in the distance dim
When Love and God on earth were manifest,
Not stranger, deeper, was the awe and pride
Pygmalion felt when first the senseless stone
Glowing with intellect, soul-glorified,
Breathed, moved, and lived, his own, his blessed own!-
Than what we feel that hour a solemn voice,
Cleaving the wilderness of fang and thorn,
Bids, organ-deep yet clarion-clear, "Rejoice!
Carol, for unto you a son is born!"

Yet for mine own part, scarce an earthly sight
So wrings my heart, so fills it with despair,
With sad blind wanderings in a moonless night,
As doth a baby, Bethlehem-pure and fair ;
Often I gaze and coldly turn away,
Forcing the tears back, smothering a sigh,
Only to hear the youthful mother say,
"She loves not little ones, I wonder why?"
Ah me ! Bather I love them overmuch !
Love sharpens so mine eyes I see beyond
The golden present, see the fated touch,
The black defiling stroke of evil s wand,
See grinning Death inevitably wile
The babe into his oozy loathsome den,
And after that how shall a woman smile,
Or ever quite trust God in heaven again?
Or if the child shall live I see the years
Approach when she who now is queen shall sink
Dethroned and crownless, and her Marah- tears
Shall vital be to her as food and drink,
Or if these three dark Furies spare to smite