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<strong>Only a Curl.</strong>I.
FRIENDS of faces unknown and a land
Unvisited over the sea,
Who tell me how lonely you stand
With a single gold curl in the hand
Held up to be looked at by me, --
II.
While you ask me to ponder and say
What a father and mother do,
With the bright fellow-locks put away
Out of reach, beyond kiss, in the clay
Where the violets press han you.
III.
Shall I speak like a poet, or run
Into weak womans tears for relief ?
Oh, children ! -- I never lost one, --
Yet my arm s round my own little son,
And Love knows the secret of Grief.
IV.
And I feel what it must be and is,
When God draws a new angel so
Through the house of a man up to His,
With a m<code>?99ｌiｂ?</code>urmur of musiiss,
And a rapture of light, you fo.
V.
How you think, staring<u>九九藏书</u> on at the door,
Where the face of yel flashed in,
That its brightness, familiar before,
Burns off from you ever the more
For the dark of your sorrow and sin.
VI<var></var>.
`God lent him and takes him, you sigh ;
-- Nay, there let me break with your pain :
God s generous in giving, say I, --
And the thing which He gives, I deny
That He ever take back again.
VII.
He gives what He gives. I appeal
To all who bear babes -- in the hour
When the veil of the body we feel
Rent round us, -- while torments reveal
The motherhoods advent in power,
VIII.
And the babe cries ! -- has each of us known
By apocalypse (God being there
Full in nature) the child is our own,
Life of life, love of love, moan of moan,
Through all ges, all times, everywhere.
IX.
He s ours and for ever. Believe,
O father ! -- O mother, look back
To the first loves assurao give
Means with God not to tempt or deceive
With a cup thrust in Benjamins sack.
X.
He gives what He gives. Be tent !
He resumes nothing given, -- be sure !
God lend ? Where the usurers lent
In His temple, indignant He went
And sced away all those impure.
XI.
He lends not ; but gives to the end,
As He loves to the end. If it seem
That He draws back a gift, prehend
Tis to add to it rather, -- amend,
And finish it up to your dream, --
XII.
Or keep, -- as a mother will toys
Too costly, though given by herself,
Till the room shall be stiller from noise,
And the children more fit for such joys,
Kept over their h<abbr></abbr>eads on the shelf.
XIII.
So look up, friends ! you, who indeed
Have possessed in your house a sweet piece
Of the Heaven which men strive for, must need
Be more earhan others are,--speed
Where they loiter, persist where they cease.
XIV.
You know how one angel smiles there.
Then weep n<dfn></dfn>ot. Tis easy for you
To be drawn by a single gold hair
Of that curl, from earths storm and despair,
To the safe place above us. Adieu.
<strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>
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