A Mother's Answer

You ask me, dear child, why thus sadly I weep
For baby the angels have taken to keep;
Altho' she is safe, and for ever at rest,
A yearning to see her will rise in my breast.
I pray and endeavour to quell it in vain,
But stronger it comes and yet stronger again,
Till all the bright thoughts of her happier lot
Are lost in this one — my baby is not.
And while I thus yearn so intensely to see
This child that the angels are keeping for me,
I doubt for the time where her spirit has flown —
If the love e'en of angels can fully atone
For the loss of a mother's, mysterious and deep.
I own that thought sinful, yet owning it — weep.