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Home  »  An American Anthology, 1787–1900  »  957 The Child

Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By John BanisterTabb

957 The Child

I

LONG, long before the Babe could speak,

When he would kiss his mother’s cheek

And to her bosom press,

The brightest angels standing near

Would turn away to hide a tear—

For they are motherless.

II

WHERE were ye, Birds, that bless His name,

When wingless to the world He came,

And wordless, though Himself the Word

That made the blossom and the bird?

III
TO HIS MOTHER

HE brought a Lily white,

That bowed its fragrant head

And blushed a rosy red

Before her fairer light.

He brought a Rose; and, lo,

The crimson blossom saw

Her beauty, and in awe

Became as white as snow.