I'm sitting in my lonely room,
But for no hastening step I wait:
(And is Tom watching for me now,
And will he weary if I'm late?)
And sweetly does my baby sleep:
I never let him see me weep.
He'll never know his father's face
(And yet I think that Tom knows him)
Till that strange day which comes to all,
When heaven grows clear, and earth fades
dim.
O Baby, baby! is it wrong,
To feel as if life were too long?
I never feel that God is vexed
By the sad writhing of our pain:
When baby frets I take him up
And kiss him till he smiles again;
And if I chide a little—why,
I love him none the less, not I!
I know what Tom will wish our boy,
And I shall have to do my best
At father's law and mother's love,
To spur him on, yet give him rest;
And Heaven be praised! the way to God
Is the same way his father trod.
And after I am gone to Tom,
When baby's growing old, may-be
With many thoughts of many things,
I think he'll spare a thought for me,
And what it was to give my son
Father and mother, both in one.
