Tears, a Poem

TEARS. My little one, with sobs and cries of pain, Flew straight to the sure shelter of my breast Her haven from all earthly grief and woe. I gently wiped the streaming tears away, And kissed her flushing cheek and trembling lip; And smoothed the tawny mass of tangled curls; And crooned a lullaby into her ear; And she was comforted. She clasped her dimpled arms about my neck And smiled —and slept.

Years passed. Those selfsame feet, with languid tread, Again sought shelter in the mother nest. I clasp her wasted form close to my heart Bowed now, alas! with care and aged with grief And smoothed the shining locks of silvered hair; And freely mingled saddest tears with hers. "O, these are woes, " I cried, "a mother's love "Can soothe with sympathy, but cannot heal. "Look up, my darling child, and trust in him "Who binds our broken hearts." Her sad brown eyes, Darkened so long with sorrows born of earth, Cleared with a look of peace ineffable. She clasped her thin, white arms about my neck And smiled — and died. Sarah E. Pearson.