Aline Murray Kilmer

Here, Cyprian, is my jeweled looking-glass, My final gift to bind my final vow: I cannot see myself as I once was; I would not see myself as I am now.

I’m sorry you are wiser, I’m sorry you are taller; I liked you better foolish, And I liked you better smaller.

If I live till my fighting days are done I must fasten my armour on my eldest son.

I sing of little loves that glow Like tapers shining through the rain. Of little loves that break themselves Like moths against the window-pane.

Smilingly, out of my pain, I have woven a little song; You may take it away with you. I shall not sing it again.

For life seems only a shuddering breath, A smothered, desperate cry, And things have a terrible permanence When people die.

There is a mirror in my room Less like a mirror than a tomb, There are so many ghosts that pass Across the surface of the glass.

I shall not be afraid any more, Either by night or day; What would it profit me to be afraid With you away? * * * For there is only sorrow in my heart; There is no room for fear. But how I wish I were afraid again, My dear, my dear!

My heart shall keep the child I knew, When you are really gone from me, And spend its life remembering you As shells remember the lost sea.

Deborah danced, when she was two, As buttercups and daffodils do; Spirited, frail, naïvely bold, Her hair a ruffled crest of gold.

St. Brigid, please keep My babies asleep!

When people inquire I always just state: "I have four nice children and hope to have eight."