Josephine Preston Peabody

Josephine Preston Peabody Biography

Josephine Preston Peabody (1874 - December 4, 1922) was an American poet and dramatist. She was born in New York and educated at the Girls' Latin School, Boston, and at Radcliffe College.

From 1901 to 1903 she was instructor in English at Wellesley. In 1906 she married Prof. L. S. Marks from Harvard University. The Stratford-on-Avon prize went t ...

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The Best Poem Of Josephine Preston Peabody

Cradle Song


Lord Gabriel, wilt thou not rejoice
When at last a little boy's
   Cheek lies heavy as a rose
   And his eyelids close?

Gabriel, when that hush may be,
This sweet hand all heedfully
   I'll undo for thee alone,
   From his mother's own.

Then the far blue highway paven
With the burning stars of heaven,
   He shall gladden with the sweet
   Hasting of his feet: --

Feet so brightly bare and cool,
Leaping, as from pool to pool;
   From a little laughing boy
   Splashing rainbow joy!

Gabriel, wilt thou understand
How to keep this hovering hand? --
   Never shut, as in a bond,
   From the bright beyond? --

Nay, but though it cling and close
Tightly as a climbing rose,
   Clasp it only so, -- aright,
   Lest his heart take fright.

   (Dormi, dormi, tu.
   The dusk is hung with blue.)


Lord Michael, wilt not thou rejoice
When at last a little boy's
   Heart, a shut-in murmuring bee,
   Turns him unto thee?

Wilt thou heed thine armor well, --
To take his hand from Gabriel,
   So his radiant cup of dream
   May not spill a gleam?

He will take thy heart in thrall,
Telling o'er thy breastplate, all
   Colors, in his bubbling speech,
   With his hand to each.

   (Dormi, dormi, tu.
   Sapphire is the blue,
   Pearl and beryl, they are called,
   Crysoprase and emerald,
   Sard and amethyst
   Numbered so, and kissed.)

Ah, but find some angel-word
For thy sharp, subduing sword!
   Yea, Lord Michael, make no doubt
   He will find it out:

   (Dormi, dormi, tu!
   His eyes will look at you.)


Last, a little morning space,
Lead him to that leafy place
   Where Our Lady sits awake,
   For all mothers' sake.

Bosomed with the Blessed One,
He shall mind her of her Son,
   Once so folded from all harms
   In her shrining arms.

   (In her veil of blue,
   Dormi, dormi, tu.)

   So; -- and fare thee well.
   Softly, -- Gabriel . . .
When the first faint red shall come,
Bid the Day-star lead him home,
   For the bright world's sake,
   To my heart, awake.

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