Poems (Chilton, 1885)/The Mother's First Grief

by Robert S. Chilton

Layout 2

THE MOTHER'S FIRST GRIEF.

 

She sits beside the cradle,
 And her tears are streaming fast,
For she sees the present only,
 While she thinks of all the past;—
Of the days so full of gladness
 When her first-horn's answering kiss
Thrilled her soul with such a rapture
 That it knew no other bliss.
O those happy, happy moments!
 They but deepen her despair,
For she bends above the cradle,
 And her baby is not there!

There are words of comfort spoken,
 And the leaden clouds of grief
Wear the smiling bow of promise,
 And she feels a sad relief;
But her wavering thoughts will wander
 Till they settle on the scene
Of the dark and silent chamber,
 And of all that might have been;—
For a little vacant garment,
 Or a shining tress of hair,
Tells her heart, in tones of anguish,
 That her baby is not there!

She sits beside the cradle,
 But her tears no longer flow;
For she sees a blessed vision
 And forgets all earthly woe;
Saintly eyes look down upon her,
 And the Voice that hushed the sea
Stills her spirit with the whisper—
 "Suffer them to come to Me."
And while her soul is lifted
 On the soaring wings of prayer,
Heaven's crystal gates swing inward,
 And she sees her baby there!