To a Baby Kinswoman

Love, whose light thrills heaven and earth,     Smiles and weeps upon thy birth,     Child, whose mother's love-lit eyes     Watch thee but from Paradise.     Sweetest sight that earth can give,     Sweetest light of eyes that live,     Ours must needs, for hope withdrawn,     Hail with tears thy soft spring dawn.     Light of hope whose star hath set,     Light of love whose sun lives yet,     Holier, happier, heavenlier love     Breathes about thee, burns above,     Surely, sweet, than ours can be,     Shed from eyes we may not see,     Though thine own may see them shine     Night and day, perchance, on thine.     Sun and moon that lighten earth     Seem not fit to bless thy birth:     Scarce the very stars we know     Here seem bright enough to show     Whence in unimagined skies     Glows the vigil of such eyes.     Theirs whose heart is as a sea     Swoln with sorrowing love of thee     Fain would share with thine the sight     Seen alone of babes aright,     Watched of eyes more sweet than flowers     Sleeping or awake: but ours     Can but deem or dream or guess     Thee not wholly motherless.     Might they see or might they know     What nor faith nor hope may show,     We whose hearts yearn toward thee now     Then were blest and wise as thou.     Had we half thy knowledge, had     Love such wisdom, grief were glad,     Surely, lit by grace of thee;     Life were sweet as death may be.     Now the law that lies on men     Bids us mourn our dead: but then     Heaven and life and earth and death,     Quickened as by God's own breath,     All were turned from sorrow and strife:     Earth and death were heaven and life.     All too far are then and now     Sundered: none may be as thou.     Yet this grace is ours, a sign     Of that goodlier grace of thine,     Sweet, and thine alone, to see     Heaven, and heaven's own love, in thee.     Bless them, then, whose eyes caress     Thee, as only thou canst bless.     Comfort, faith, assurance, love,     Shine around us, brood above,     Fear grows hope, and hope grows wise,     Thrilled and lit by children's eyes.     Yet in ours the tears unshed,     Child, for hope that death leaves dead,     Needs must burn and tremble; thou     Knowest not, seest not, why nor how,     More than we know whence or why     Comes on babes that laugh and lie     Half asleep, in sweet-lipped scorn,     Light of smiles outlightening morn,     Whence enkindled as is earth     By the dawn's less radiant birth     All the body soft and sweet     Smiles on us from face to feet     When the rose-red hands would fain     Reach the rose-red feet in vain.     Eyes and hands that worship thee     Watch and tend, adore and see     All these heavenly sights, and give     Thanks to see and love and live.     Yet, of all that hold thee dear,     Sweet, the dearest smiles not here.     Thine alone is now the grace,     Haply, still to see her face;     Thine, thine only now the sight     Whence we dream thine own takes light.     Yet, though faith and hope live blind,     Yet they live in heart and mind     Strong and keen as truth may be:     Yet, though blind as grief were we     Inly for a weeping-while,     Sorrow's self before thy smile     Smiles and softens, knowing that yet,     Far from us though heaven be set,     Love, bowed down for thee to bless,     Dares not call thee motherless.