Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, AFTER OUR LADY'S PRESENTATION, by EMILY HENRIETTA HICKEY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

AFTER OUR LADY'S PRESENTATION, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Wife, my wife our journey o'er
Last Line: To her according to thy word!
Subject(s): Angels; Babies; Heaven; Mary. Mother Of Jesus; Saints; Women In The Bible; Infants; Paradise; Virgin Mary


JOACHIM

WIFE, my wife, our journey o'er,
Here in our home are we once more.

ANNE

Talk not of home, my Joachim,
For the light of home is low and dim.

Two we are that erst were three,
Thou and I and Babe Mary.

Oh, the Lord's courts be great and fair,
But who will play with my baby there?

Dost think the angels, Joachim,
Will sing our sweet her cradle hymn?

Or will the Lord, of His gentle grace,
Lend one angel her mother's face?

Lend him my voice in the quiet night,
If she should wake and cry with fright?

Oh, than I they are lovelier,
Yet I am fairer than they to her.

I, who am old and unfair to see,
Am fairest of all to my Babe Mary.

JOACHIM

Wife, thou wert glad but yester-eve,
And wherefore now should'st mourn and grieve?

All of our three days' home-coming,
The heart within thy breast did sing.

Yea, this morning, yea, this noon,
Thy thoughts were set to another tune.

Dost repent that our hands have given
This, the crown of our life, to Heaven?

Hush thee, let not the good Lord know
Thou art grieved for serving Him so.

Did we not vow we would not hold
Back from His hand this finest gold?

Vow that we would not keep from Him
The jewel that made all others dim?

ANNE

God's was she, and we gave her Him—
But—the house without her, Joachim!

Nay, I repent me not, my spouse,
But the heart is a-chill in the empty house.

And we are old, and it may be vain
To think we shall see our child again.

And if again, O husband mine,
How shall we know her, what the sign?

No more our little Babe Mary,
But God's grave-eyed saint-lady.

JOACHIM

Anne, mother, weep not so:
What is God's to God doth go.

Wife, she danced in her lovely mirth
Joy more great than the joy of earth;

Danced, as her father David did,
With none to jeer or to forbid;

Danced on the temple steps in glee,
God's handmaid, our Babe Mary:

God's daughter beloved, and He
Holds in His arms our Babe Mary:

Holds in His everlasting arms,
Safe from terror and ghostly harms.

One day, perhaps, our eyes may see
What He doth with our Babe Mary.

One day, perchance, our ears may hear
What He has said in our darling's ear;

Though our weak feet may never go
The path He means our child to know.

So let us say,

ANNE AND JOACHIM
Be it done, O Lord,
To her according to Thy word!





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