To An Unborn Pauper Child

I      Breathe not, hid Heart: cease silently,      And though thy birth-hour beckons thee,      Sleep the long sleep:      The Doomsters heap      Travails and teens around us here,     And Time-wraiths turn our songsingings to fear. II      Hark, how the peoples surge and sigh,      And laughters fail, and greetings die:      Hopes dwindle; yea,      Faiths waste away,      Affections and enthusiasms numb;     Thou canst not mend these things if thou dost come. III      Had I the ear of wombed souls      Ere their terrestrial chart unrolls,      And thou wert free      To cease, or be,      Then would I tell thee all I know,     And put it to thee: Wilt thou take Life so? IV      Vain vow! No hint of mine may hence      To theeward fly: to thy locked sense      Explain none can      Life's pending plan:      Thou wilt thy ignorant entry make     Though skies spout fire and blood and nations quake. V      Fain would I, dear, find some shut plot      Of earth's wide wold for thee, where not      One tear, one qualm,      Should break the calm.      But I am weak as thou and bare;     No man can change the common lot to rare. VI      Must come and bide. And such are we -      Unreasoning, sanguine, visionary -      That I can hope      Health, love, friends, scope      In full for thee; can dream thou'lt find     Joys seldom yet attained by humankind!