Classic Poem

Thou, helpless babe, whose days went by,
As dim as dreams, as soon forgot,
Wert thou myself? nay, nay, for I
Could see thy face, and know thee not.

Dear child with hair like shining flax,
Who sat'st beside my Mother's knee,
Time's shifting sand has hid thy tracks;
What had my life to do with thee?

And yon tall girl that looks afar,
And questions earth and air and sea,
And follows fast her guiding star,—
Dear God, how far she is from me!

In noon's strong light a woman stands,
With life's full pressure on her laid;
Its curious webs are in her hands,
And flushed with joy, yet half afraid,

She turns her wondering eyes on me;
And claims me yet; I felt her needs;—
Up roll the mists from land and sea;
I onward press, her form recedes!

Am I responsible for these?
Far off, in some great judgment-hall,
Beyond these earthly, storm-swept seas,
Must I make answer for them all?

Thou, helpless babe, whose days went by,
As dim as dreams, as soon forgot,
Wert thou myself? nay, nay, for I
Could see thy face, and know thee not.

Dear child with hair like shining flax,
Who sat'st beside my Mother's knee,
Time's shifting sand has hid thy tracks;
What had my life to do with thee?

And yon tall girl that looks afar,
And questions earth and air and sea,
And follows fast her guiding star,—
Dear God, how far she is from me!

In noon's strong light a woman stands,
With life's full pressure on her laid;
Its curious webs are in her hands,
And flushed with joy, yet half afraid,

She turns her wondering eyes on me;
And claims me yet; I felt her needs;—
Up roll the mists from land and sea;
I onward press, her form recedes!

Am I responsible for these?
Far off, in some great judgment-hall,
Beyond these earthly, storm-swept seas,
Must I make answer for them all?