To My Lost Baby

Had you but
lived four months old would
you be constant companion constant
joy to me but now those bands are riven
yet were you living still one fewer tie
I’d have with heaven O baby
mine whom yet I never
knew would you
have had eyes
brown or gray or
blue perhaps t’were
best you were but born
to die then could you never
know a tear or sigh for none shall
enter heaven with a cry my child who never
knew a mother’s love could you have missed it do
you know of me I wonder who will take you on her knee until
I come O darling babe wait near the door of heaven for
with exceeding joy my precious girl or boy
I’ll look for you then fold you in
my arms with glad
surprise
and kiss your eyes
be they gray brown or blue.

(C) 1954 Edith Miller

My mother wrote this in grief over the baby
she miscarried when I was three years old.
I remembered that loss, and read her
poem many times as I was growing up.