I remember my mother reading me this poem when I was young, though I didn't grasp how sad it was at the time: It was without the context of a son already loss, nor the losses to come.
The Twins
Ma will help her babies, she will loosen all their clothes,
And will put some sugar on, where the biggest pink one grows.
Now hold fast my darlings, in each mouth away it goes.
What a lovely site to see to see, two babies suck their toes.
Who owns all these pretty things I see?
They belong to the twins and the twins belong to me.
Ma has two little babies to cuddle, and to please
She has two little darlings to hug and kiss and squeeze.
And sometimes in the somewhere when cut up their little pranks
There will be two little naughties to spank.
Who owns all these pretty things I see?
They belong to the twins and the twins belong to me.
A foolish mother fondly called them mine,
A loving Savior whispered, nay, not thine.
They are my treasure lent thee for a day,
I claim them now, they may no longer stay.
The mother weeps, yet knows the voice of God
And bows her head to humbly kiss the rod.
"Comfort me, Lord", her agonized prayer,
"Thou gavest me love and know how dear they were".
Two bright and shining forms by faith I see,
They are the twins in Heaven, they wait for me.
~ Clara McNaughton
I get a sense of Clara's delight in her baby boys from this poem, and can picture chubby feet in the air and her smiling down on them. However, it also speaks to her anguish and continues the theme of her faith in heaven. What a loss for her to experience: Three of her boys had died and she was only 39. However, the tragic deaths were not over: 10 years later, her fourth son, Duncan Alexander died at 17 years old from diabetes. I wonder how this shaped the relationship with her remaining children?
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