The Mother’s Tragedy

THE MOTHER'S TRAGEDY Past her pale beauty through some glowing skies Not unfamiliar, through exulting gates— “ Lift up your heads,” I hear the angels cry ; “ Be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors. A child-heart seeks the Lover of the Child!” O meek and holy Jesus, hath Thy heart Yearned unto me, Thy maiden? For I knew A bliss so pregnant with the unforeseen As brought me to the very feet of Christ, Weeping. How clouded that mysterious Passion! JI fell a-weeping in my bed, Forgetting, or not knowing. For a fire Too perfect for my sinful soul to touch Gathered me closely in itself, to hide Its utter glory from me. Now I feel Swift troubled tremblings in myself: I seek Again those visionary skies. Alas! That angel chorus swells another note I cannot understand. CORA. I am so moved, I cannot find it in my heart to say The words I purposed. Let my folly pass As an old worldly woman’s talk. MADELINE. O no! You bear the sainted fragrance of your love Higher than even my dreams. In earthly life 3