Classic Poem

You ask me, dear child, why thus sadly I weep
For baby the angels have taken to keep;
Altho' she is safe, and for ever at rest,
A yearning to see her will rise in my breast.
I pray and endeavour to quell it in vain,
But stronger it comes and yet stronger again,
Till all the bright thoughts of her happier lot
Are lost in this one—my baby is not.
And while I thus yearn so intensely to see
This child that the angels are keeping for me,
I doubt for the time where her spirit has flown—
If the love e'en of angels can fully atone
For the loss of a mother's, mysterious and deep.
I own that thought sinful, yet owning it—weep.