A BIRTH-SONG.
113
Filled thine with life and smiled,
But then wept blood for half their own withdrawn.[1]
If death and birth be one,
And set with rise of sun,
And truth with dreams divine,
Some word might come with thee
From over the still sea
Deep hid in shade or shine,
Crossed by the crossing sails of death and birth,
Word of some sweet new thing
Fit for such lips to bring,
Some word of love, some afterthought of earth.
If love be strong as death,
By what so natural breath
As thine could this be said?
By what so lovely way
Could love send word to say
He lives and is not dead?
- ↑ Oliver Madox Brown died November 5, 1874, in his twentieth year.
