Page:Maurine and Other Poems (1910).pdf/76

 Who linger long upon this troubled way, God takes me to the realm of Endless Day, To mingle with His angels, who alone Can understand such bliss as I have known. I do not murmur. God has heaped my measure, In three short years, full to the brim with pleasure; And, from the fulness of an earthly love, I pass to th’ Immortal Arms above, Before I even brush the skirts of Woe.

“I leave my aged parents here below, With none to comfort them. Maurine, sweet friend! Be kind to them, and love them to the end, Which may not be far distant.

And I leave A soul immortal in your charge, Maurine. From this most holy, sad and sacred eve, Till God shall claim her, she is yours to keep, To love and shelter, to protect and guide.” She touched the slumb’ring cherub at her side, And Vivian gently bore her, still asleep, And laid the precious burden on my breast.

A solemn silence fell upon the scene. And when the sleeping infant smiled, and pressed My yielding bosom with her waxen cheek, I felt it would be sacrilege to speak, Such wordless joy possessed me.

Oh! at last This infant, who, in that tear-blotted past, Had caused my soul such travail, was my own: Through all the lonely coming years to be Mine own to cherish—wholly mine alone. And what I mourned so hopelessly as lost Was now restored, and given back to me.

The dying voice continued: “In this child You yet have me, whose mortal life she cost. But all that was most pure and undefiled, And good within me, lives in her again. Maurine, my husband loves me; yet I know, Moving about the wide world, to and fro, And through, and in the busy haunts of men, Not always will his heart be dumb with woe,