And then I take the Book and read before I seek my rest,
Of how that other Son went forth (them parts I like the best),
And left His mother lone for Him she'd cuddled to her breast.
I like to think when nights were dark and Him at prayer maybe,
Upon the gurt dark mountain side, or in His boat at sea,
He worried just a bit for her, who'd learnt Him at her knee.
And maybe when He minds her ways, He will not let
Jan fall—
I'm thinkin' He will know my boy, with his dear ways an' all—
With his tanned face, his eyes of blue, and he so strappin' tall.
SHE turned the page of wounds and death
With trembling fingers. In a breath
The gladness of her life became
Naught but a memory and a name.
Farewell! Farewell! I might not share
The perils it was yours to dare.
Dauntless you fronted death: for me
Rests to face life as fearlessly.
HERE is his little cambric frock
That I laid by in lavender so sweet,
And here his tiny shoe and sock
I made with loving care for his dear feet.