Her baby was so full of glee,
 And through the day
It laughed and babbled on her knee
 In happy play.
It pulled her hair all out of curl
 With noisy joy;
So peppy she was glad her girl
 Was not a boy.

Then as she longed for it to sleep,
 To her surprise
It just relaxed within her keep
 With closing eyes.
And as it lay upon her breast
 So still its breath,
So exquisite its utter rest
 It looked like death.

It seemed like it had slipped away
 To shadow land;
With tiny face like tinted clay
 And waxen hand.
No ghost of sigh, no living look . . .
 Then with an ache
Of panic fear and love she shook
 Her babe awake.