The First-born

The bitterest and the gladdest hour it was!
I stood at the stairs foot and heard your cry
Ring through the house. Upon the slanting glass
The setting sun made splendour, and I watched
Him sink with eyes which nothing saw. Again,
A moment's space the chamber-door unlatched
Let out your moaning, and I bitterly
Bowed down and trembled at your voice of pain.
Eternity seemed crowded in that hour;
All thought and passion, faculty and power
Was quickened and intense; the veil of gross
And faulty apprehension was withdrawn,
And left the naked heaven of infinite things
Close to me, like a throbbing heart. More close
T felt thy spirit, and I cried, " What now
If she be passing out on angel's wings?"
Just then the sun sank to his other dawn,
And as his rim burned down in final glow,
I heard a new voice in the house, the cry
Of the new-born, whose kindling human light
Rose on our lives, and, please God, by-and-by
Shall shine far out athwart the world's dark night.