Classic Poem

I.

[ THE LADY'S THOUGHT .]

I T may have been — — Who knows, who knows?
It was too dark for me to see.
The wind that spared this very rose
Its few last leaves could hardly be
Sadder of voice than he.

A foreign Prince here in disguise,
Who asked a shelter from the rain.
(The country that he came from lies
Above the clouds.) He asked in vain,
And will not come again.

If I had known that it was He
Who had not where to lay his head: —
" But my Lord Christ, it cannot be;
My guest-room has too white a bed
For way-side dust, " I had said.

II.

[ THE MOTHER'S THOUGHT. ]

I T was my own sweet child — the one
Whose baby mouth breathes at my breast.
(A fairer and a brighter, none
Save His own Mother ever prest
Into diviner rest.)

He had escaped my arms and strayed
Into the pitiless world that night.
With wounded feet and faith betrayed,
Charmed backward by a glimmer of light,
Almost he stood in sight.

Oh, I had let him ask in vain,
(Vague, lonesome, shadowy years ahead,)
My roof to hide him from the rain,
My lamp to comfort him, my bread,
Who came as from the dead!