Motherhood

Mine! This tiny dimpled creature of rose
Still wrapped in lingering breath of Heaven's oer-
fume.
Mine! The shining little eyes,
The leaf-curled nose,
The little mouth,
Like a small rose,
A-nuzzling at my breast.

But scarce a month
And all the garden of his face
Was not, and all his grace.
One month, and yet it seems a year,
Since first I trod that path of pain and fear
Till out of all my anguish
Came my bliss,
When God reached down from Heaven
And gave me this!

^__Louisa Cooke Don-Carlos