God's Child

He wanders round the garden wild,
I hear him singing sweet ;
I know it is my fairy child,
I hear his dancing feet.

Birds low warble in the nest,
Leaves murmur merrily ;
My boy is leaning on the breast
Of God most tranquilly.

He gazes in deep eyes Divine,
With innocent clear eyes ;
He is God's baby more than mine ;
The Father is all-wise.

Carol, my darling ! laugh and leap !
For art thou not God's own ? . . .
, . . Ah ! wildly, wildly must I weep
. . , God hath destroyed His son !

Stabbed with a sudden traitor thrust
The heart so unafraid!
Then flung him down into the dust,
To perish on the blade !

Earth felt, and, staggered with the blow,
Reeled shuddering under me !
Dead worlds, like shrivelled leaves, fell low
From Life's uprooted tree !

How shall I name Thee, Thou Supreme ?
Hate, Treachery, or Crime? . . .
. . . When may we rise from our dark dream
Beyond the bounds of Time ? . . .

He is but folded closer still
Within the Father's bosom,
Lest our earth airs may work him ill,
My baby boy, my blossom !