O, baby mine !
Your lips unsheath,
And show your tongue
And pearly teeth ;
Do n't throb and cry, do n't start in fright ;
Do n't weep,
But sleep
Your mother, baby, died last night.
Come in and see
Her lying dead,
Upon her snowy bed :
How sweet she is, how calm and white
Do n't weep,
But sleep,
Your mother, baby, died last night.
She does not speak,
Or even smile ;
But in the splendid after-while
You '11 see her stand in radiant light ;
Beneath her feet
The golden street,
And round her neither death nor night.
My orphaned young,
O, baby mine !
My loss is nought
At all, to thine :
For when her spirit took its flight,
Your greatest stay
Was ta'en away
And soared aloft to God last night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem