KISSES THAT CAME TOO LATE.
"Pease, mama, pease, tiss me dood night."
My blue-eyed babe, with sunny curls,
Stood pleading in a tearful plight—
I said, "I can't kiss naughty girls."
To her snowy cot I led her o'er;
"Pease, mama, pease," she sobbed again,
"I won't be naughty any more."
I left her; all her pleadings vain. I had been reared in Spartan view,
And deemed it duty to control
With rigid rule, nor ever knew
That law with love should sway the soul.
I heard her sob; my heart aweep
With yearning filled to meet her prayer,
Yet I refrained; and in her sleep
My baby still lay moaning there. 'Twas midnight when I felt a thrill—
A fevered hand was on my brow;
My white-robed baby pleaded still—
"Pease, mama, pease, I tan't sleep now."
All through that agonizing dark,
Delirious she moaned in pain;
Still plead the little broken heart
For kisses that I gave in vain. At dawn the angels hovered o'er;
She nestled close and smiled and said,
"I won't be naughty any more."
And in my arms lay baby—dead.
And I am old—the passing years
Have brought no comfort in their flight;
That sobbing cry my heart still hears:
"Pease, mama, pease, tiss me dood night."
—Selected.