80
Poems
THE PROMISE
Oh, thou who art guarding my baby for me,—
In an unknown land, o'er a mystic sea,—
Bear my treasure over the dangerous tide,
And lay it safely my heart beside.
I shall thank the messenger for such gain,
Though he come to me on the wings of pain;
For with yearning heart at the golden gate,
Of my life's best promise, I wait, I wait.
In an unknown land, o'er a mystic sea,—
Bear my treasure over the dangerous tide,
And lay it safely my heart beside.
I shall thank the messenger for such gain,
Though he come to me on the wings of pain;
For with yearning heart at the golden gate,
Of my life's best promise, I wait, I wait.
I await the promised joy to see,
When a little child shall be given to me;
When, against this yearning mother-breast,
A little head shall nestle and rest;
When out of the highest court of heaven,
A new, white soul to my guidance is given.
So with love and awe at the outer gate,
Of this wonderful hope, I wait, I wait.
When a little child shall be given to me;
When, against this yearning mother-breast,
A little head shall nestle and rest;
When out of the highest court of heaven,
A new, white soul to my guidance is given.
So with love and awe at the outer gate,
Of this wonderful hope, I wait, I wait.
Shall your eyes be dark? or a starlit grey?
Or the blue of my loved one's far away?
Shall your hair be brown? or the ruddy gold
Or the blue of my loved one's far away?
Shall your hair be brown? or the ruddy gold
