Mother's Loss

If I could clasp my little babe
 Upon my breast to-night,
I would not mind the blowing wind
 That shrieketh in affright.
Oh, my lost babe! my little babe,
 My babe with dreamful eyes;
Thy bed is cold; and night wind bold
 Shrieks woeful lullabies.

My breast is softer than the sod;
 This room, with lighter hearth,
Is better place for thy sweet face
 Than frozen mother eatrth.
Oh, my babe! oh, my lost babe!
 Oh, babe with waxen hands,
I want thee so, I need thee so -
 Come from thy mystic lands!

No love that, like a mother's fills
 Each corner of the heart;
No loss like hers, that rends, and chills,
 And tears the soul apart.
Oh, babe - my babe, my helpless babe!
 I miss thy little form.
Would I might creep where thou dost sleep,
 And clasp thee through the storm.

I hold thy pillow to my breast,
 To bring a vague relief;
I sing the songs that soothed thy rest -
 Ah me! no cheating grief.
My breathing babe! my sobbing babe!
 I miss thy plaintive moan,
I cannot hear - thou art not near -
 My little one, my own.

Thy father sleeps.  He mourns thy loss,
 But little fathers know
The pain that makes a mother toss
 Through sleepless nights of woe.
My clinging babe! my nursing babe!
 What knows thy father - man -
How my breasts miss thy lips' soft kiss -
 None but a mother can.

Worn out, I sleep; I wake - I weep -
 I sleep - hush, hush, my dear;
Sweet lamb, fear not - Oh, God! I thought -
 I thought my babe was here.