The hour arrives, the moment wished and feared,
The child is born, by many a pang endeared;
And now the mother's ear has caught his cry;
O! grant the cherub to her asking eye!
He comes, she clasps him, to her bosom pressed,
He drinks the balm of life, and drops to rest.
She, by her smile, how soon the stranger knows;
How soon by his the glad discovery shows!
As to her lips she lifts the lovely boy,
What answering looks of sympathy and joy!
He walks--he speaks--in many a broken word,
His wants, his wishes, and his griefs are heard;
And ever, ever to her lap he flies,
Where rosy sleep comes on with sweet surprise,
Locked in her arms, his arms across her flung,
That name most dear forever on his tongue.
As with soft accents round her neck he clings,
And cheek to cheek her lulling song she sings,
How blest to feel the beating of his heart,
Breathe his sweet breath, and kiss for kiss impart,
Watch o'er his slumbers, like the brooding dove,
And if she can, exhaust a mother's love!
--_From Littell's Living Age._
987