"WHITE-FACED mother, what fragrant things Do you lay in the chest apart?" "They are little birth-shifts made long ago For the baby under my heart." "But why do you fold them with such tears That patter a pitiful rain? Bearing-time is a joyous time, And no one grieves for its pain." "I have carried death in my breast a month Where baby hands would cling: Something sucks my life away And creeps where milk should spring. "Though I shall see my baby's face, Its words I shall not hear; I wait with a heart-break for its sake On death ere the dawning year. "Three nights agone, woe-drenched, foredone, Sleep lent me a little grace, And I dreamed that it and I had met In a quiet happy place. "So dreams a bird in the dark that night Pales fast and day is nigh, And sings, and wakes at its song to find That night has still to die. "When I think of my two lyings-in, The birth-bed and the tomb, I wish my baby were buried with me -- At breast or in my womb. "I would rather lie in my grave all dead Through still, eventless years Than stand alone at Heaven's gate To watch till my child appears." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEATH AND DOCTOR HORNBOOK; A TRUE STORY by ROBERT BURNS A RUNNABLE STAG by JOHN DAVIDSON CHRISTMAS TREES; A CHRISTMAS CIRCULAR LETTER by ROBERT FROST OVERNIGHT, A ROSE by CAROLINE GILTINAN SONNET OF HIS LADY IN HEAVEN by JACOPO DA LENTINO |