Classic Poem

White as the sheet is her delicate face,
Girlishly sweet 'mid the linen and lace,
Motherly meet with its new-gotten grace.

Go not away till she opens her eyes;
Deep in their gray lurks a wondrous surprise,
Bright as the day and as pure as the skies!

Thrilling her breast is the heart of all love,
Keen as the best of the raptures above,
Tiger's unrest and the fear of the dove.

Bliss that was bred in a transport of pain,
Suffering fled out of ecstasy's reign—
Fled now and dead, though it lived not in vain!

This is a bliss that no words can express;
Joy such as this they refuse to confess:
Thoughts only miss when we deem that we guess.

Tuned is the heart of the mother full soon;
Lullabies start there, and many a croon
Sweeter than art and as old as love's boon.

Love's sea is filled to its uttermost deeps;
If it is stilled how enraptured it sleeps;
If it is thrilled how it trembles and leaps!

Wonderful power round humanity cast!
All in an hour, and the old life is past;
Womanhood's flower is expanded at last!