Page:Aurora Leigh a Poem.djvu/261

Rh The most unclean got courage and approach To God, once,—now they cannot, even with men, Find grace enough for pity and gentle words.’

‘My Marian,’ I made answer, grave and sad, ‘The priest who stole a lamb to offer him, Was still a thief. And if a woman steals (Through God’s own barrier-hedges of true love, Which fence out licence in securing love) A child like this, that smiles so in her face, She is no mother, but a kidnapper, And he’s a dismal orphan. . not a son; Whom all her kisses cannot feed so full He will not miss herafter a pure home To live in, a pure heart to lean against, A pure good mother’s name and memory To hope by when the world grows thick and bad, And he feels out for virtue.’ ‘Oh,’ she smiled With bitter patience, ‘the child takes his chance,— Not much worse off in being fatherless Than I was fathered. He will say, belike, His mother was the saddest creature born; He’ll say his mother lived so contrary To joy, that even the kindest, seeing her, Grew sometimes almost cruel: he’ll not say She flew contrarious in the face of God With bat-wings of her vices. Stole my child,— My flower of earth, my only flower on earth, My sweet, my beauty!’. . Up she snatched the child,