Fay Inchfawn

To a Little White Bird

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Into the world you came, and I was
Because "God did it," so the wise ones
I wonder sometimes "Did you really
And "Are you truly . . . DEAD?"

Thus you went out -- alone and uncaressed;
O sweet, soft thing, in all your infant
I never held you in my arms, nor pressed
Warm kisses on your face!

But, in the Garden of the Undefiled,
My soul will claim you . . . you, and
not another;
I shall hold out my arms, and say "MY
And you will call me "MOTHER!"

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