I SOMETIMES think because at first I shrank,
And in my girlish heart rebelled, that I
Should face again the long and weary months,
'Twas just for that as well as other things
That when he came I could not love enough.
But long before the day my doubt had passed,
The child had leaped within me and I knew
The sweet and holy joy of sacred things.
And so my hour came, and, fierce and long,
I battled for his life in agony,
A wheel of fire in my shattered back
And all my being crucified with pain.
Then suddenly, as though by earthquake rent,
The world went black with torture, and I knew
That my cry mingled with another's cry
So faint I hardly heard, and yet I thrilled
To know the anguish gone, because once more
A man child had been born to this strange earth.
There, as I lay, exhausted, I rejoiced
That I had known the whole, each primal pang
That any squaw might feel beneath the bush —
That I had proved myself what women were
Who brought the pioneers into the world,
The virile men who conquered wood and plain,
For I had never murmured till the last
Great wrench of nature brought my body's fruit.
Perchance because of all this poignancy,
I loved him with a love so deep and strong
As though 'twere born of elemental things;
But then, I lay within the darkened room
Content to float upon a seeming mist,
So very quiet, almost in a dream —
The calm and placid days slipped softly by,
Those days of sweet seclusion, when the world
Seemed very far away, when even love,
Except the love I bore my little one,
Was quite a thing apart, though hovering near
And guarding me from care, a loyal shield
That locked my chamber door to all but peace.
So still I lay, till he would come to me;
Then I would hold him closely to my breast
Against the sheltered haven of my heart,
And feel that God was in His Heaven high.
Sometimes I took him in my happy arms
And scanned the little face and touched the hair,
The fair soft hair, and looked into the eyes
That were my father's in their shining blue —
One of my father's race, ah! it was so —
For as he grew to childhood I could see
The very traits I loved, the joy of life,
The gay, bright heart, the sweet simplicity,
The love and courage and the fierce contempt
For one who could be cruel to the weak —
And even as he grew my passion grew,
For we were one in heart and very soul —
His spirit lifted me, and all my sky
Was filled with light if he were only near.
Life seemed so sweet for him, and so for me
With every perfect thing that it could bring.

But suddenly, the awful summons came,
For he was dead, and so my heart died too!
The pangs I suffered when I gave him birth
Were only in my weak and pliant flesh,
But when he died it was my heart was torn,
My passionate heart that seemed a living thing,
That loved with love that was affinity —
The one affinity that cannot fail.
Just as the world went black when he was born,
So blacker far it went when he was dead,
For my strong heart was shattered by the blow.
Thus, though I know that I have many joys,
And though I greet the beauty of the Spring,
And welcome Summer with its golden days,
The glory is departed from the earth
Because he is not part of this same Spring,
Because the Summer and its golden days
Can never more be seen through his dear eyes.
And though the Autumn with its rich red glow
Awakens a response within my breast,
I cannot laugh as once I laughed with him,
When riding neck and neck across the hills
Into the glory of the dying day!
Ah! no, the chill of Winter holds me fast,
For he was the fair flower of my youth.
But even with the anguish that is mine,
I could not wish that it should ever pass,
For it is but the other side of joy,
And I must meet it as I met the pangs
Of that fierce birth that brought me my delight —
The essence of the part that is divine,
The perfect joy of perfect motherhood.