| |
| THE NIGHT is late, the house is still; | |
| The angels of the hour fulfil | |
| Their tender ministries, and move | |
| From couch to couch in cares of love. | |
| They drop into thy dreams, sweet wife, | 5 |
| The happiest smile of Charlie’s life, | |
| And lay on baby’s lips a kiss, | |
| Fresh from his angel-brother’s bliss; | |
| And, as they pass, they seem to make | |
| A strange, dim hymn, “For Charlie’s sake.” | 10 |
| |
| My listening heart takes up the strain, | |
| And gives it to the night again, | |
| Fitted with words of lowly praise, | |
| And patience learned of mournful days, | |
| And memories of the dead child’s ways. | 15 |
| His will be done, His will be done! | |
| Who gave and took away my son, | |
| In “the far land” to shine and sing | |
| Before the Beautiful, the King, | |
| Who every day does Christmas make, | 20 |
| All starred and belled for Charlie’s sake. | |
| |
| For Charlie’s sake I will arise; | |
| I will anoint me where he lies, | |
| And change my raiment, and go in | |
| To the Lord’s house, and leave my sin | 25 |
| Without, and seat me at his board, | |
| Eat, and be glad, and praise the Lord. | |
| For wherefore should I fast and weep, | |
| And sullen moods of mourning keep? | |
| I cannot bring him back, nor he, | 30 |
| For any calling, come to me. | |
| The bond the angel Death did sign, | |
| God sealed—for Charlie’s sake, and mine. | |
| |
| I ’m very poor—this slender stone | |
| Marks all the narrow field I own; | 35 |
| Yet, patient husbandman, I till | |
| With faith and prayers, that precious hill, | |
| Sow it with penitential pains, | |
| And, hopeful, wait the latter rains; | |
| Content if, after all, the spot | 40 |
| Yield barely one forget-me-not— | |
| Whether or figs or thistle make | |
| My crop content for Charlie’s sake. | |
| |
| I have no houses, builded well— | |
| Only that little lonesome cell, | 45 |
| Where never romping playmates come, | |
| Nor bashful sweethearts, cunning-dumb— | |
| An April burst of girls and boys, | |
| Their rainbowed cloud of glooms and joys | |
| Born with their songs, gone with their toys; | 50 |
| Nor ever is its stillness stirred | |
| By purr of cat, or chirp of bird, | |
| Or mother’s twilight legend, told | |
| Of Horner’s pie, or Tiddler’s gold, | |
| Or fairy hobbling to the door, | 55 |
| Red-cloaked and weird, banned and poor, | |
| To bless the good child’s gracious eyes, | |
| The good child’s wistful charities, | |
| And crippled changeling’s hunch to make | |
| Dance on his crutch, for good child’s sake. | 60 |
| |
| How is it with the child? ’T is well; | |
| Nor would I any miracle | |
| Might stir my sleeper’s tranquil trance, | |
| Or plague his painless countenance: | |
| I would not any seer might place | 65 |
| His staff on my immortal’s face. | |
| Or lip to lip, and eye to eye, | |
| Charm back his pale mortality. | |
| No, Shunamite! I would not break | |
| God’s stillness. Let them weep who wake. | 70 |
| |
| For Charlie’s sake my lot is blest: | |
| No comfort like his mother’s breast, | |
| No praise like hers; no charm expressed | |
| In fairest forms hath half her zest. | |
| For Charlie’s sake this bird ’s caressed | 75 |
| That death left lonely in the nest; | |
| For Charlie’s sake my heart is dressed, | |
| As for its birthday, in its best; | |
| For Charlie’s sake we leave the rest | |
| To Him who gave, and who did take, | 80 |
| And saved us twice, for Charlie’s sake. | |
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