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Poem by Mathilde Blind
From out the front of being, undefiled, A life hath been upheaved with struggle and pain; Safe in her arms a mother holds again That dearest miracle—a new-born child. To moans of anguish terrible and wild— As shrieks the night-wind through an ill-shut pane— Pure heaven succeeds; and after fiery strain Victorious woman smiles serenely mild. Yea, shall she not rejoice, shall not her frame Thrill with a mystic rapture! At this birth, The soul now kindled by her vital flame May it not prove a gift of priceless worth? Some saviour of his kind whose starry fame Shall bring a brightness to the darkened earth.
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