Talk of the Heart – Hope

Slowly... the boy's lashes drooped, and met in a near embrace,
and with one long sigh... he passed into a peaceful sleep...
His mother's hand plays with his hair, brushing it back from the broad forehead, and from between her lips there trembles a limpid melody —
the melody the boy loves, and falls asleep upon!

*

... Moments... and the mother is lost in delicate contemplation...
Her eyes watch over the sleeping little one; his boyhood will open, with the days, into a flourishing youth:
a filling-out of the chest... a rounding of the forearms,
a lengthening frame, roughening... a harmony of limbs,
the flush of health in two sun-browned cheeks...
And her gaze settles on the palm of his hand,
and on the yearning, outstretched fingers...
And gently she lifted the brown hand between her own —
... to her lips... then to her breast!
How often she has longed to do such a thing,
and a will imposed by the dignity of motherhood held her back!

*

... No, she will not shed, as is her habit... generous tears.
Today she is nearer to happiness than to tears.
How wondrous, what is revealed to her eye!
Is a fresh green hope dawning anew in her heart?
Is her beloved returning, to walk again through the house, after a long and wearying separation,
so that she may delight in the sight of him, filling her eye, filling her heart...
in the person of this precious little one — her little one??