And more and more smiled Isobel To see the baby sleep so well-- She knew not that she smiled. Against the lattice, dull and wild Drive the heavy droning drops, Drop by drop, the sound being one; As momently time's segments fall On the ear of God, who hears through all Eternity's unbroken monotone: And more and more smiled Isobel To see the baby sleep so well-- She knew not that she smiled. The wind in intermission stops Down in the beechen forest, Then cries aloud As one at the sorest, Self-stung, self-driven, And rises up to its very tops, Stiffening erect the branches bowed, Dilating with a tempest-soul The trees that with their dark hands break Through their own outline, and heavy roll Shadows as massive as clouds in heaven Across the castle lake And more and more smiled Isobel To see the baby sleep so well; She knew not that she smiled; She knew not that the storm was wild; Through the uproar drear she could not hear The castle clock which struck anear-- She heard the low, light breathing of her child.
O sight for wondering look! While the external nature broke Into such abandonment, While the very mist, heart-rent By the lightning, seemed to eddy Against nature, with a din,-- A sense of silence and of steady Natural calm appeared to come From things without, and enter in The human creature's room.
So motionless she sate, The babe asleep upon her knees, You might have dreamed their souls had gone Away to things inanimate, In such to live, in such to moan; And that their bodies had ta'en back, In mystic change, all silences That cross the sky in cloudy rack, Or dwell beneath the reedy ground In waters safe from their own sound: Only she wore The deepening smile I named before, And _that_ a deepening love expressed; And who at once can love and rest?
In sooth the smile that then was keeping Watch upon the baby sleeping, Floated with its tender light Downward, from the drooping eyes, Upward, from the lips apart, Over cheeks which had grown white With an eight-day weeping: All smiles come in such a wise Where tears shall fall or have of old-- Like northern lights that fill the heart Of heaven in sign of cold.
Motionless she sate. Her hair had fallen by its weight On each side of her smile and lay Very blackly on the arm Where the baby nestled warm, Pale as baby carved in stone Seen by glimpses of the moon Up a dark cathedral aisle: But, through the storm, no moonbeam fell Upon the child of Isobel-- Perhaps you saw it by the ray Alone of her still smile.