Classic Poem

And now the baby is born,
And the little mother after the agony and sweat sleeps peacefully on her bed,
And the ages old traveler tired after its long journey lies by the side of the mother,
And the doctor has gone away into the night to answer other calls feeling that his minor part in this major drama is over,
And the glad father rests at ease with the world and God and his own soul,
And the nurse with a hushed air goes to and fro ministering to the needs of the helpless,
And quiet falls on the house and assuages its pitiful fever,
And all is well with them all after the stir and the doubt.

Now God goes back to the accustomed routine now that God has steered this ship warily into port,
Now law resumes its sway now that a miracle has broken its rule,
Now other things are happening again after ceasing to happen to give the newcomer right of way,
Now the shadows fall thick on the earth and the quarrels of peoples are reawakened,
And the river that stopped in its course floods and ebbs in the tide as before,
And the stars that left the heavens to shine on this cradle slip back contentedly to their orbits,
And the streets resound with manytoned cries again after the penitential silences,
And suns that went dim on this holiday are lustrously relit in the sky:
So it is that the baby comes to us divinely despatched and attended,
So it is that not only this mother but all mothers may see that motherhood is of the greatest avail.

Mothers, all of you, listen to me, and I will inform your fiercely fervent faith:
I do not lose sight of you or make less of you wherever you are, in garrets or palaces,
And I pour into you wide flowing far advancing floods of consolation
I am not standing only at the bedside of my dear friend: I stand at all bedsides,
For each bed the earth over contains my dear friend though we dont as much as know each others' names:
I stand by bedsides of pity, bedsides of congratulation, bedsides of revolt:
And here it is that I see babies come with nobody to welcome them —
I see that mothers must shudder at motherhood because the pathway is so roughened with want —
And that is why looking at the injustice of the world I sentence the world to be barren:
I say: We must have no more children till the world has learned how to be just to fathers and mothers
But the fathers who pay the father costs and the mothers who pay the mother costs plead and I relent:
Relent in sorrow, seeing that I must not cross the fertile parent hunger of my children,
And remain sorrowful, weeping bitter tears, wishing the race dream was made easier for my stubborn children —
My wanton wilful ungovernable divine children —
But not daring to withhold my sanction from those who counting all risks are ready to adventure.

Dear mother, mother of the new child, and all you mothers, mothers of all children,
Hear me: listen to me as I say these big ancient things to you in today's tongue:
I do not need to retreat to the masters to find words and signs to make my intention plain:
You take me in at a glance — you know the size and quality of my promise:
I remove the clouds from the prospect so that motherhood may glow as the central star,
And I appoint with motherhood the regeneration of all the future —
The motherhood not of fathers not of laws not of traditions but the free motherhood of love.

Little mother, I listened outside your door and they told me how you got on,
And I grieved for you who suffered and I danced with mad jollity for you who rejoiced,
And I laid upon your doorsill the tax of my utmost passion,
Until the travail was all past and the deliverance,
And then I left you to retake my anonymous part in the crowd,
Leaving behind me that which you will always feel though it never goes by my name —
I who mothered your motherhood and fathered the father your mate.
And now the baby is born.