Isabel Ecclestone Mackay

(25 November 1875 – 15 August 1928 / Canada)

The Mother - Poem by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay

LAST night he lay within my arm,
So small, so warm, a mystery
To which God only held the key–
But mine to keep from fear and harm!

Ah! He was all my own, last night,
With soft, persuasive, baby eyes,
So wondering and yet so wise,
And hands that held my finger tight.

Why was it that he could not stay–
Too rare a gift? Yet who could hold
A treasure with securer fold
Than I, to whom love taught the way?

As with a flood of golden light
The first sun tipped earth's golden rim,
So all my world grew bright with him
And with his going fell the night–

O God, is there an angel arm
More strong, more tender than the rest?
Lay Thou my baby on his breast,
To keep him safe from fear and harm!

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Poem Submitted: Monday, September 6, 2010



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