Poems (Curwen)/Two Letters

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Two Letters.
Two letters reached me on the self-same morn;   One came to tell That in one home a little babe was born,   Child and mother well.
What joy there'll be within that home to-day,   I, smiling, said; Then turned to where the other letter lay,   And, weeping, read,
That in another home the light had gone   From mother's eyes: Her pain-racked form at rest, her spirit flown   To Paradise.
For one, the thrilling touch of wee warm hands   And baby lips; The other, parting, silence, and the unseen lands,   The grave's eclipse.
Within one home, all joy, a mother sleeping,   With babe at breast; Within the other, sorrow, fond hearts weeping   O'er one at rest.
'Tis ever thus, our joys are shadowed   By sorrow's knell; But with the living mother, and the dead,   Thank God! 'tis well.
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