The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1894-03-18
A POEM BY GLADSTONE.
On an Infant Who Was Born, Was
Baptized and Died on the Same Dav.

Bv short transition from the womb
Unto that other dark less OF thy tomb,
o babe . brother to the grass
For like the herd. so thou art born
At early morn;
And thy little life has flowed away
Before the flowing day:
Thy willing soul hath struggled, and Is free;
And all OF thee that dleth
A white and waXen image ltcth
Upon the knee.
oh, whittier hast thou fed,
From the warm, joyous world removed ?"
Might one of old have questioned
OF his dear and dead;
Painting and strainlng for relief
Unto passionate and hopeless grief;
whittier . thou in vain beloved,
Whittier has thou borne
The smiles and kisses, that we gathered up
In thee for her that bole thee now forlorn
AS sweets in the wild rose cup.
Before the morn :"
rs that thy feeble cry
But lust beyond the threshold Of the grave?
Art thou yet waiting in the yoiceless nall
OF Dis, or hear st the mourning waters fall?
Thou canst not sure be nigh
Where mad and shrieking spirits rave.
Or dost thou slumber take
BY the deep CLASSY and translucent lake,
Through a chill eXhauStless night,
Apart from woe, yet senseless Of delight"
There was no audible reply,
Only faint far echo, to that cry
OF natural yearntng. But our task
Is lighter far; and when weask-
rs all thy fate as dark
AS is the pail upon thy limbs2
Is there no sun above, no savior ark,
That on the black sea swims,
And bears the children, loved OF God and
blessed.
Unto the land of restY'
We hear voice, from the high seats of
bliss.
That answers Yes"
Yes narrow was the space
Where thy life ran its hurried race,
Like one affrighted by the far-off glare
OF the worlds pleasures and alarms,
That from the sin, the sorrow and care
Fled, to seek shelter in the arms
OF his first father, and had rest
Upon his breast.
o Joy, that on that narrow space,
There is no spot of acted sin
No burning trace
As where evil thoughts have been.
Thou hast not known how hard 1t is to kill
The inveterate strength Of self-desire,
To quench the smOlderiug and tenacious fire.
And never did thine uneXpanded will
Gather up conscious energies TO move
Against the God OF love.
The volume of this life was soon unrolled;
But the hours OF thy small earthly store,
Although no more
Thou might be numbered, at he dawn of
sense,
BY a chiIds first Intelligence,
Yet We're their single moments told
To them that stood around
BY faint moaning sound,
Repeated with that laboring breath
That ever ushers death,
Instead Of the serene and soft pulsation
OF an infant respiration.
How small the tribute then, Of human pain
The Eternal Wisdom did Ordan
Thy migrant spirit should be bound to pay
Upon its way
Unto fruition of the immortal prize.
Purchased for thee by rain Of scalding tears,
BY agony iudign,
BY woes how heavier far than thine
Through more protracted years,
And deeper signs
One evening thou vert not.
The next thou vert; and vert in bliss;
And vert in bliss forever. And is this
SO deSolate lot,
To be the theme Of unconsoled sorrow,
Because, thy first tomorrow,
Thou vert ordained vest to wear
Not made like ours of clay,
But woven with the beams OF clearest day,
A cherub fair? 4
For on that one, that well spent morn,
Unconscious thou vert borne
To wash in the baptismal stream;
To gain thy title to the glorious name
Which doth unbar the Gates of Paradise;
And thou vert taken home
Before the peril that might come
BY thy parents human pride
In thy soft-beaming eyes,
But not before
Their blessing on thee they might pour,
And pray that, II so early doom betide,
Yet God might speed thee on thy path
Through the void realms OF death,
And Christ receive thee in his bosom peace
Till rain and sin shall cease;
Till earthly Shams shall fly, and they
Shall wake to life, with thee, from clay.
We are amid the tumult and the stress
OF fierce -eddying fght
And, to our mortal sight,
Our fate is trembling in the balances,
And even 1t hath seemed
The Tempter at the neither scale
Might over Love prevail;
But thy dear Faith can never fail,
Thou art redeemed
The shadowy forms OF doubt and change
Athwart thy tranquil fate no more may range,
Nor speck its lucid path
With tokens and remembrances of Death
Then flow We blameless tears, awhile,
4 little while ye may;
The natural craving to beguile,
This task is yours; with you
Shall peace be born anew,
And sorrow glide away.
Oh, happy they, in whose remembered lot =
There should appear no darker spot
Than this, of holy ground,
This, where, within the short and narrow
bound,
From morn to eventide,
In quick successive train,
An infant lived and died
And lived again.