THE INFANT'S GRAVE[1]
Dark and gloomy is the night,
Not a star rays forth its light;
But no light I need to show
Where my little one's laid low:
Blindfold I can thread my way—
Tears may blind but do not stay:
Straight as arrow from a bow
To thy resting-place I go.
Little angel pure as light
From the farthest star of night!
Only treasure of my heart,
Sole joy in which I claimed a part!
Darling whose bright presence made
All my care and sorrow fade,
And in a web of gloom enwrought
Threads of bright and happy thought!
Of all other comforts reft
Thou alone to me wert left;
Joy was mine embracing thee,
Thou wert all in all to me!
He whom once I loved so well
Lured away by evil spell—
With naught else to fill my heart
I lived in thee—and dead thou art!
Tyrant death! amidst thou not spare
A flower so young, so sweet, so fair?
If thou needs must take one, why
For her sake might I not die?
Then some mercy hadst thou shewn,
Nor left me desolate, alone,
A childless mother, homeless wife,
To linger out a death-in-life.
Reft of all that gives delight
Day's as wearisome as night;
Earth's a barren desert drear,
With no Mount of Promise near;
Hope's by dull despair devoured,
All joy's slain, all sweetness soured;
Where'er I turn I see alone
A frowning sky, a face of stone.
Night so dark can have no dawn;
I'll follow thee where thou art gone;
1 cannot linger in this drear,
Homeless, hopeless, evil sphere:
Calls my darling, Come away!
Broken heart, your beating stay!
Merciless you struck before,
Death! in mercy strike once more!
1890
- ↑ This poem was suggested by a newspaper paragraph, which told the story of the discovery of the dead body of a mother upon the grave of her child.