O, not alone I weave this miracle
Of glowing spirit from my body-s zone.
With every moment of the life unknown
You feed the glory of a growing cell.
All day I think of you, and night must tell
Dreams of my dreams unto your heart alone;
So, seeing you, I take you, O my own,
Into my child where first you wrought Life-s spell.

Dearest, as much as I, you breathe in pain,
Breeding yourself-your very soul from me
By look and sign, soft word and action strong,
And all you longed for in its form regain.
I am a humble haven where we three,
Father and child and mother, make a song.