THE BABY OVER THE WAY by WASHINGTON GLADDEN

ACROSS in my neighbor's window,
With its drapings of satin and lace,
I see, 'neath a crown of ringlets,
A baby's innocent face.
His feet in their wee red slippers
Are tapping the polished glass,
And the crowd in the street look upward,
And nod and smile as they pass.

Just here in @3my@1 cottage window,
In the rays of the noonday sun,
With a patch on his faded apron,
Stands my own little one.
His face is as pure and handsome
As the baby's over the way,
And he keeps my heart from breaking
At my toiling every day.

Sometimes when the day is ended,
And I sit in the dusk to rest,
With the face of my sleepy darling
Hugged close to my lonely breast,
I pray that my neighbor's baby
May not catch heaven's roses, all;
But that some may crown the forehead
Of my loved one as they fall.

And when I draw the stockings
From his little tired feet,
And kiss the rosy dimples
In his limbs so round and sweet,
I think of the dainty garments
Some little children wear,
And frown that my God withholds them
From @3mine@1, so pure and fair.

May God forgive my envy,
I knew not what I said;
My heart is crushed and humbled:
My neighbor's boy is dead.
I saw the little coffin
As they carried it out to-day;
A mother's heart is breaking
In the mansion over the way.

The light is fair in my window,
The blossoms bloom at my door;
My boy is chasing the sunbeams
That dance on the cottage floor;
The roses of health are blushing
On my darling's cheek to-day;
But baby is @3gone@1 from the window
Of the house that's over the way.

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!

Other Poems of Interest...