Great2bCatholic
11-08-2008, 01:35 PM
This poem was found in 1928 under my great grandmas mattress when she passed away, my grandma was only a couple of days old. I am told she made this poem up. Has anyone ever heard it before?
An angel came down to a mother, and whispered so tenderly, Dear heart, I have brought you a message, give heed while I tell it to thee.
Pale death has been promised as guardian, a mortal in Heaven tonight, mid the blessed and the ransomed, make room for a soul that is stainless and white, bend low while I whisper the secret, the choice, it hath fallen on thee, or the babe asleep on your bosom, pray mother, which will it be?
And the heart of the mother grew heavy, a she gazed on her little one there asleep in its infinite beauty, so tender, so helpless, so fair.
She thought of the dear, dear pathway, which the mother-less little one's tread, she thought of the infinite yearning and hunger, more deep than for bread.
Shall I sleep in the arm of my Saviour while my babe hath never a bed, Shall I feast on the fruits immortal, while my little one cryeth for bread?
This world is so cruel to my baby, I am strong and can journey alone, this world shall not have you, my baby, Igive you to death and to God.
The angel then kissed it so softly, a sigh and a flutter of breath, and he sleep of the dimpled darling, but deepened, till they called it "death".
An angel came down to a mother, and whispered so tenderly, Dear heart, I have brought you a message, give heed while I tell it to thee.
Pale death has been promised as guardian, a mortal in Heaven tonight, mid the blessed and the ransomed, make room for a soul that is stainless and white, bend low while I whisper the secret, the choice, it hath fallen on thee, or the babe asleep on your bosom, pray mother, which will it be?
And the heart of the mother grew heavy, a she gazed on her little one there asleep in its infinite beauty, so tender, so helpless, so fair.
She thought of the dear, dear pathway, which the mother-less little one's tread, she thought of the infinite yearning and hunger, more deep than for bread.
Shall I sleep in the arm of my Saviour while my babe hath never a bed, Shall I feast on the fruits immortal, while my little one cryeth for bread?
This world is so cruel to my baby, I am strong and can journey alone, this world shall not have you, my baby, Igive you to death and to God.
The angel then kissed it so softly, a sigh and a flutter of breath, and he sleep of the dimpled darling, but deepened, till they called it "death".