It never throve from the first,
Mother, she seem'd to fear it;
But her words were the worst:
“Nancy, you'll never rear it.”
Yet he took to the breast
And I knew the great end
Of women, to give their best,
To spend and to spend.
But his great eyes stared
Till he seemed all eyes,
And more than I dared
Meet looks so wise.
Wondering and darkly blue,
Pondering and slow,
They would look you thro’ and thro’,
Then tire and let you go,
And fall back to vacancy,
As if the poor thing plain'd,
“Why was I not let be,
And what have I gain'd?”
‘ Twas more than I could bear,
I pray'd that he might die;
And God must have heard my prayer,
For he went with a little sigh:
A flutter, a murmur, a sigh
Lighter than dawn wind —
It was his soft Good-bye;
And all my life lay behind.
I wonder if they were wise,
Those three kings of the East
Who offer'd gifts of price
To the Child on a Girl's breast.
But if they were wise, their sons
Have other counsel than they:
The gifts they offer are guns,
And the children's parents they slay.