When the Baby Died

WHEN the baby died, so fair was she—

Like a lily an angel had dropped for me—

That I said to myself: “She is only asleep,”

And I wondered that others would over her weep:

And I stooped and kissed her, half dreaming she

Would open her blue eyes unto me,

And laugh again as on yesterday,

And dimple and croon in the dear old way—

When the baby died.

When the baby died I could not weep,

And I said: “She is only asleep—asleep

She will wake ere long and I shall hear

The prattle I love beat on my ear.”

And I smoothed all gently the golden hair,

And I would not believe she was otherwhere

As I cried, “My darling, look up and see!”

But only the night wind answered me—

When the baby died.

When the baby died—sometimes I start

From a dream at night with a longing heart,

For I fancy I hear through the silence wide

A prattle of words from the babe that died.

Then my hands fell down, though empty they be,

For I know that my darling has gone from me,

And the night creeps into a somber day,

While my heart cries out: “Come back, I pray”—

Since the baby died.