To my unborn son
“My
son!” What simple, beautiful words!
“My boy!” What a wonderful phrase!
We’re
counting the months till you come to us-
The months, and the weeks, and the days!
“The
new little stranger,” some babes are called.
But that’s not what you’re going to be;
With
double my virtues and half my faults,
You can’t be a stranger to me!
Your
mother is straight as a sapling plant,
The cleanest and best of her clan-
You’re
bone of her bone, and flesh of her flesh,
And, by heaven, we’ll make you a man!
Soon
I shall take you in two strong arms-
You that shall howl for joy-
With
a simple, passionate, wonderful pride
Because you are just-my boy!
And
you shall lie in your mother’s arms,
And croon at your mother’s breast,
And
I shall thank God I am there to shield
The two that I love the best.
A
wonderful thing is a breaking wave,
And sweet is the scent of spring,
But
the silent voice of an unborn babe
Is God’s most beautiful thing.
We’re
listening now to that silent voice
And waiting, your mother and I-
Waiting
to welcome the fruit of our love
When you come to us by and by.
We’re
hungry to show you a wonderful world
With wonderful things to be done,
We’re
aching to give you the best of us both
And
we’re lonely for you-my son!
Captain Cyril Morton Thorne
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