Motherhood

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From out the front of being, undefiled,
 A life hath been upheaved with struggle and pain;
 Safe in her arms a mother holds again
That dearest miracle-a new-born child.
To moans of anguish terrible and wild-
 As shrieks the night-wind through an ill-shut pane-
 Pure heaven succeeds; and after fiery strain
Victorious woman smiles serenely mild.

Yea, shall she not rejoice, shall not her frame
 Thrill with a mystic rapture! At this birth,
The soul now kindled by her vital flame
 May it not prove a gift of priceless worth?
Some saviour of his kind whose starry fame
 Shall bring a brightness to the darkened earth.

© Mathilde Blind