Classic and Contemporary Poetry
A BABY'S RATTLE, by ANONYMOUS First Line: Only a baby's rattle Last Line: Of such is the kingdom of heaven Subject(s): Babies;toys; Infants | ||||||||
I. ONLY a baby's rattle, And yet if you offered me gold More than my heart could dream of, Or jewels my hand could hold, For that worthless toy, I should answer, You cannot buy the tears Of love and joy, the remembrance Of all that it means for all years. The old associations Of the years that have waned and fled Lie there with the childish token That was clasped by a hand that is dead. And beyond all earthly treasures That prowess or brain could win, I prize that worn old plaything For the memories shrined therein. There may be hope in the future With its dreams too bright to last, But they lack the consecration That clings round thoughts of the past. II. She came when the May-time scattered May-buds upon holt and lea: And the glint of the sunshine seemed sweeter, And a new song was sung by the sea. 'T was a page from the book of Creation, With an imprint I knew was divine, And I felt the infinite yearning For the new life sprung from mine. Ah me! how we loved our blossom! And it scarce seems days ago That she crowed and laughed in the summer, And faded in winter snow. It seems like a vision remembered Of a death in unrestful sleep, When fearsome thoughts come upon you As storms brood over the deep. And whenever I hear the laughter That rings from a child at play, I think of our dear dead snowdrop, -- And it seems but yesterday. III. The May-time had changed to summer, And the roses of autumn come, The birds sung blithe in the branches, But blither the birdie at home. The cynic may sneer at the feeling, For a cold, hard creed is rife; But I know that my love for my darling Was my purest thought in life. She grew with the summer's fruitage, But in warm autumnal days, She faded, it seemed like the leaflets That strewed the woodland ways. It was hard to mark, and still harder To think that the hopes we kept Must be buried away with old fancies, And dreams that in silence slept. Were we never to see her joyous In childhood's innocent play? Ah, no! she was called, and left us -- And it seems but yesterday. IV. At last -- how well I remember The long and lingering night, When we watched by the tiny cradle Till the morning's earliest light; And then when the desolate morning Shone cold through the winter bars, Lo! God had taken our snowdrop To blossom beyond the stars. It was hard to bow in submission When we thought of the vacant place, And there within the cradle The white little baby face. Only one thought could comfort, The echo of words divine, That, tender as any mother, By the waters of Palestine, He spake, who bade the children Draw near on the sacred sod, When he stretched out hands of blessing, -- "Of such is the kingdom of God." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A POET TO HIS BABY SON by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON BABYHOOD by ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN INFANCY by EDMUND JOHN ARMSTRONG BALLAD OF THE LAYETTE by WAYNE KOESTENBAUM A TOAST FOR LITTLE IRON MIKE by PAUL MARIANI THE PAMPERING OF LEORA by THYLIAS MOSS ONE FOR ALL NEWBORNS by THYLIAS MOSS IN THE THRIVING SEASON by LISEL MUELLER TIS A LITTLE JOURNEY by ANONYMOUS |
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