The mottoes and commentaries of Friedrich Froebel's Mother play

Front matter

Book-^b^

IntcrnatioiTal ^ijutatbix ^txm

EDITED BY

Contents

PAGE

Editor's Preface vii

Preface by the Translator xvii

II. The Mother In Unity With Her Child

Tell me, my little one, soft and pure.

What comes from thee to me, Stirring me dimly, as stirs the spring,

With the joy of things to be ?

" 'Tis the faith which looks from my trusting eyes,

Faith in thy brooding care ; 'Tis the love which speaks in my happy smile,

For I know no ' here ' nor ' there.'

" Only to lie in thy sheltering arms,

Where darkness cannot fright; And to draw my life from thy loving breast,

Where, with fingers clinging tight,

" I tell, as only a baby can.

Of the hope that thou shalt be In the coming years to my opening life

What thou art now to me ! "

Dear baby, again look into my eyes

While I look into thine; Together we'll spell life's lesson out;

Thy faith shall still teach mine !

All that thy clinj^ing", helpless love

Has told me I should be — All that thy fond hope prophesies —

I'll strive to be for thee.

For the faith of thy innocent eyes forecasts

A larger faith than thine ; And as thou drawest life from me,

I draw from the life divine.

III. The Mother's Joy In Beholding Her Child

Who can tell the mother's meaning, When above the cradle leaning,

Where her baby lies, She with if holds sweet communing? Broken words, or wordless crooning

For her need sutRce ; But within them, self-surrender, High endeavour, patience tender,

Live as prophecies.

Oh, tell me, child, what fairy spell in thee Makes all about thee still more dear to me ? Why do I find in each caressing play Such joy as angels in Heaven's service may ?

Ah, 'tis thy growing life ! which, like a flower Now in the bud, brings with each newer hour New promise of a beauty yet to be — New joy with each fulfilling prophecy !

All peacefully within its green defence The young bud lies: so wrapped in innocence Thou liest, dear; and as the opening bud Unknowing gives its beauty to the wood,

THE MOTHER AT PLAY WITH HER CHILD. 45

So thy sweet eyes make brighter all my day, And shed their angel light upon my way ; For as the sun shines in each flower we see, Thy soul, from out thine eyes, doth shine on me ;

While like a victor claiming all his spoils Thy baby lips, too, hold me in their toils ! Yes, eyes and lips, all that thy ringlets crown. Speak to my soul and mirror forth thine own.

Thy dimpled limbs, which now refuse thy weight. Forecast a strength that shall make war with Fate ; And all which now I fondle, kiss, and hold, Is type of human greatness manifold.

Thy very weakness seems a proof to me Of human nature's higher dignity ! For, full-equipped for all its lifelong round, Each bird and beast at birth is ever found.

Ah. that is why my own best life is stirred With every tender service or fond word Bestowed on thee. To man— distinction proud ! — Alone 'tis given to share the work of God I

IV. The Mother At Play With Her Child

Wheke'er your gaze with watchful love is bent Upon your child, think well of what is meant

By each part needed for so fair a whole. You learn their value, knowing their intent,

And so can teach them all to serve his soul.

I'm so proud of you, Baby, my darling, my own I Now listen : I'll tell you how you may be known.

Your dear little Head is too heavy, as yet. But that's as it should be with babies, my pet. Beneath your fair Forehead shine two happy Eyes : I pray they may never grow too worldly wise !

A " War of the Roses " is waged in your Cheek ! (My fine phrases, sweet one, to you are but Greek I) Your Ears, like pink shells, are to hear when I sing; I hope they'll ne'er listen to any wrong thing.

Your queer little Nose is so cunning and round, And your sweet baby Mouth beneath it is found; And when in your sleep your rosy Lips part, Their silence is singing a psalm to my heart!

And here is your Chin — pretty dimple and all ; It holds thousands of kisses, although it's so small. Your white Throat and Neck are softer than down; And your fine little Back shows how strong you have grown.

Your tiny, plump Hands, with their small Fingers five,

Are telling each day of a Mind that's alive.

In each Arm at the turn a dimple is set;

When they have grown strong, what a hugging I'll get!

Here's a fine, sturdy Chest, and beneath it I feel

Your tiny Heart beat. O! through woe and through

weal, May it ever beat true, and learn by-and-bye How the Life that we live is fed from on high.

Here's a strong little Leg — a leg that can kick ! Before w^e can think 'twill be striding a stick. And here, at the last, are your ten little Toes, Like tiny pink buds in two little rows.

Ah, sweet one ! ere long you'll be running alone ; Then where will my own little Baby have gone ?

THE MOTHER OBSERVING HER CHILD. 4

I shall miss the dear treasure I've held in my arms. With its dimples and cooings and sweet baby charms.

Yes, out of his babyhood Baby must grow; A Soul is born with him — it stirs even now ; 'Twill unfold like a flower in God's sunshine and air: May he help me to guard it, and keep it still fair !

V. The Mother Observing The Development Of Her Child

As the mother hour by hour Feels her child's awakening power.

Earnestly she prays Tliat the God of love will fold it In his sheltering arms, and hold it

Ever in his ways.

But she knows that she is sent To fulfil his love's intent

Towards her little one ; And she quickens each endeavour, For his love and care are ever

Working throuarh her own.

How my baby is growing and changing apace ! Each night a new dimple, each day a new grace. His head grows so shapely, his forehead so fine ! With the gladness of seeing, his happy eyes shine. His ear leans attent to each song that I sing, And he eagerly smells every flower that I bring. When I hold him upright, he springs on my knee, And with mere joy of motion he laughs out in glee. Already he grasps for a ball or a flower. And holds it fast, too, with all his small power.

And when in his bath he splashes and springs, He feels the life in hira, as birds feel their wings. The life ? — yes, the life — and what does life mean? It means the soul in us, the God-force unseen, Which thrills into action throug-h each wakening* sense; And through action brings slowly — we can not teil

whence — A conscious self-seeing" — we learn to say " I." With the conscious " I work " comes life's full ecstasy !

VI. The Mother Talking To Her Child

The mother who is true to her sweet trust,

Feels herself richer every day, Not only as a mother must —

Ownmg her babe — but in a way Untenable to those who know it not, And which, once known, can never be forgot I

With each caress, each care, each merry play, Her own soul deepens for God's love ;

And as the sun with fervent ray Draws each small flower to look above.

She draws her child's soul forth to meet her own,

And learns that love, in earth and heaven, is one.

Come, let me look into your heart, dear, Through your beautiful, wondering eyes;

Now smile at mamma, and kiss her In pretty baby wise.

And reach out your hands to mine, dear;

They shall bind our hearts in one I Then put them up about my neck,

As you have often done.

THE CHILD AT ITS MOTHER'S BREAST. 49

Next show mamma your little ears

Like sea-shells, pink and white. Ah, here they are, for me to kiss 1

Your curls had hid them quite.

Now stiflPen your chubby, round legs, dear,

And stand up straight in my lap; I hold you now — ere many moons

You'll stand alone, mayhap.

But your life will still lean on mine, dear,

For mother and child must be Drawn together through all their lives,

As the constant moon draws the sea.

Drawn together, though long miles should part — Together, even as now, While I fold you close to my loving heart, And press a kiss on your brow.