After “Song for a Fifth Child (Babies Don’t Keep) by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
Mother, oh mother, put down your burp cloth.
Donate the diapers, shut off the wash,
Pack all the hats for tiniest of heads,
Sew up your heart and collapse baby’s bed.
Where is the one whose absence is so shocking?
We’re all still here waiting with empty arms, rocking.
She’s gone without even a “Good night, Gorilla”
(Hush, little darling, now don’t say a word).
She left only a small, empty pillow
(Daddy’s gonna hold you, sweet little bird).
Your home’s a better one and there’s nothing to do
But leave room in our hearts where we thought you grew,
Where we’re praying, loving, most missing you.
(Our little Mercy, we’ll hold this as true:
Our Father in Heaven is holding you.)
Goodbye, the life we hoped you’d still have tomorrow.
Some kids don’t grow up, as we’ve learned to our sorrow.
Farewell, little future. Dreams, go to sleep.
We’re mourning our baby, one we can’t keep.
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