Here is a bit of Victoriana from the pen of the author of “The Man from Snowy River”, and anything less like is hard to imagine. To each age its taste, I guess.
Banjo Paterson (right) camping
The Angel’s Kiss
By A. B. Paterson
An angel stood beside the bed
Where lay the living and the dead.
He gave the mother — her who died —
A kiss that Christ the Crucified
Had sent to greet the weary soul
When, worn and faint, it reached its goal.
He gave the infant kisses twain,
One on the breast, one on the brain.
“Go forth into the world,” he said,
“With blessings on your heart and head,
“For God, who ruleth righteously,
Hath ordered that to such as be
“From birth deprived of mother’s love,
I bring His blessing from above;
“But if the mother’s life He spare
Then she is made God’s messenger
“To kiss and pray that heart and brain
May go through life without a stain.”
The infant moved towards the light,
The angel spread his wings in flight.
But each man carries to his grave
The kisses that in hopes to save
The angel or his mother gave.
Yes, there are a few vile rhymes there…
He gave the infant kisses twain,
One on the breast, one on the brain.
Somewhat risible by any standards, I’m afraid; of a piece with the illustration below, though I enjoy the irony of its source.
