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The Spirit Of The Unborn Babe Analysis

Author: Poetry of Robert Service Type: Poetry Views: 97

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Ballads of a Bohemian (Book 3)The Spirit of the Unborn Babe peered through the window-pane,

Peered through the window-pane that glowed like beacon in the night;

For, oh, the sky was desolate and wild with wind and rain;

And how the little room was crammed with coziness and light!

Except the flirting of the fire there was no sound at all;

The Woman sat beside the hearth, her knitting on her knee;

The shadow of her husband's head was dancing on the wall;

She looked with staring eyes at it, she looked yet did not see.

She only saw a childish face that topped the table rim,

A little wistful ghost that smiled and vanished quick away;

And then because her tender eyes were flooding to the brim,

She lowered her head. . . . "Don't sorrow, dear," she heard him softly say;

"It's over now. We'll try to be as happy as before

(Ah! they who little children have, grant hostages to pain).

We gave Life chance to wound us once, but never, never more. . . ."

The Spirit of the Unborn Babe fled through the night again.The Spirit of the Unborn Babe went wildered in the dark;

Like termagants the winds tore down and whirled it with the snow.

And then amid the writhing storm it saw a tiny spark,

A window broad, a spacious room all goldenly aglow,

A woman slim and Paris-gowned and exquisitely fair,

Who smiled with rapture as she watched her jewels catch the blaze;

A man in faultless evening dress, young, handsome, debonnaire,

Who smoked his cigarette and looked with frank admiring gaze.

"Oh, we are happy, sweet," said he; "youth, health, and wealth are ours.

What if a thousand toil and sweat that we may live at ease!

What if the hands are worn and torn that strew our path with flowers!

Ah, well! we did not make the world; let us not think of these.

Let's seek the beauty-spots of earth, Dear Heart, just you and I;

Let other women bring forth life with sorrow and with pain.

Above our door we'll hang the sign: `


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