Elizabeth Barrett Browning - Little Mattie lyrics

Dead! Thirteen a month ago!
Short and narrow her life’s walk
Lover’s love she could not know
Even by a dream or talk:
Too young to be glad of youth
Missing honour, labour, rest
And the warmth of a babe’s mouth
At the blossom of her breast
Must you pity her for this
And for all the loss it is
You, her mother, with wet face
Having had all in your case?

Just so young but yesternight
Now she is as old as death
Meek, obedient in your sight
 Gentle to a beck or breath
Only on last Monday! Yours
 Answering you like silver bells
Lightly touched! An hour matures:
 You can teach her nothing else
She has seen the mystery hid
Under Egypt’s pyramid:
By those eyelids pale and close
Now she knows what Rhamses knows

Cross her quiet hands, and smooth
 Down her patient locks of silk
Cold and passive as in truth
 You your fingers in spilt milk
Drew along a marble floor
 But her lips you cannot wring
Into saying a word more
 "Yes, " or "No, " or such a thing:
Though you call and beg and wreak
Half your soul out in a shriek
She will lie there in default
And most innocent revolt

Ay, and if she spoke, maybe
 She would answer, like the Son
"What is now ’twixt thee and me?"
 Dreadful answer! better none
Yours on Monday, God’s to day!
 Yours, your child, your
Blood, your heart
Called you called her, did you say
 "Little Mattie" for your part?
Now already it sounds strange
And you wonder, in this change
What He calls His angel-creature
Higher up than you can reach her

’T was a green and easy world
 As she took it room to play
(Though one’s hair might get uncurled
 At the far end of the day)
What she suffered she shook off
 In the sunshine what she sinned
She could pray on high, enough
 To keep safe above the wind
If reproved by God or you
’T was to better her, she knew
And if crossed, she gathered still
’T was to cross out something ill

You, you had the right, you thought
 To survey her with sweet scorn
Poor gay child, who had not caught
 Yet the octave-stretch forlorn
Of your larger wisdom! Nay
 Now your places are changed so
In that same superior way
 She regards you dull and low
As you did herself exempt
From life’s sorrows grand contempt
Of the spirit's risen awhile
Who look back with such a smile!

There’s the sting of’t that, I think
 Hurts the most a thousandfold!
To feel sudden, at a wink
 Some dear child we used to scold
Praise, love both ways, kiss and tease
 Teach and tumble as our own
All it's curls about our knees
 Rise up suddenly full-grown
Who could wonder such a sight
Made a woman mad outright?
Show me Michael with the sword
Rather than such angels, Lord!