Poems (Terry, 1861)/Lost on the Prairie

by Rose Terry Cooke

LOST ON THE PRAIRIE.

Oh, my baby, my child, my darling!
 Lost and gone in the prairie wild;
Mad gray wolves from the forest snarling,
 Snarling for thee, my little child!

Lost, lost! gone forever!
 Gay snakes rattled and charmed and sung;
On thy head the sun's fierce fever,
 Dews of death on thy white lip hung!

Dead and pale in the moonlight's glory,
 Cold and dead by the black oak-tree;
Only a small shoe, stained and gory,
 Blood-red, tattered,—comes home to me.

Over the grass that rolls, like ocean,
 On and on to the blue, bent sky,
Something comes with a hurried motion,
 Something calls with a choking cry,—

"Here, here! not dead, but living!"
 God! Thy goodness—what can I pray?
Blessed more in this second giving,
 Laid in happier arms to-day.

Oh, my baby, my child, my darling!
 Wolf and snake and the lonely tree
Still are rustling, hissing, snarling;
 Here's my baby come back to me!