poems2

A Child Of Mine
I will lend you, for a little time,
A child of mine, He said.
For you to love the while he lives,
And mourn for when he's dead.
It may be six or seven years,
Or twenty-two or three.
But will you, till I call him back,
Take care of him for Me?
He'll bring his charms to gladden you,
And should his stay be brief.
You'll have his lovely memories,
As solace for your grief.
I cannot promise he will stay,
Since all from earth return.
But there are lessons taught down there,
I want this child to learn.
I've looked the wide world over,
In search for teachers true.
And from the throngs that crowd life's lanes,
I have selected you.
Now will you give him all your love,
Nor think the labour vain.
Nor hate me when I come
To take him home again?
I fancied that I heard them say,
'Dear Lord, Thy will be done!'
For all the joys Thy child shall bring,
The risk of grief we'll run.
We'll shelter him with tenderness,
We'll love him while we may,
And for the happiness we've known,
Forever grateful stay.
But should the angels call for him,
Much sooner than we've planned.
We'll brave the bitter grief that comes,
And try to understand.
ByEdgar Guest

When a Little Baby Dies

When a little baby dies
And the wee form silent lies,
And the little cheeks seem waxen
And the little hands are still,
Then your soul gives way to treason,
And you cry: O, God, what reason,
O, what justice and what mercy
Have You shown us by Your will?
Oh, there are so many here
Of the yellow leaf and sere,
Who are anxious, aye, and ready
To respond unto Your call;
Yet You pass them by unheeding,
And You set our hearts to bleeding!
Oh how bitterly upon us
Do Your vaunted mercies fall!

Yet some day, in after years,
When Death's angel once more nears,
And the unknown, silent river
Looms as darkly as a pall,
You will hear your baby saying,
Mamma, come to me, I'm staying
With my arms outstretched to greet you,
And you'll understand it all.

By Edgar Guest

To All Parents

angel I'll lend you for a little while a child of mine He said.
For you to love the while she lives, + mourn for when she's dead.
It may be six or seven years, or twenty two or three,
But will you, till I call her back, take care of her for me ?
She'll bring her charms to gladden you, and shall her stay be brief,
You'll have her lovely memories as solace for your grief.