"I have been thinking, 'most a year,We'd sell this place, and somewhere nearRent a cottage small and neat,And raise enough for us to eat," Said Mother.
"There's trouble worse than loss of lands.We've honest hearts and willing hands,And not till earth and roof and doorCan rob of peace, shall I be poor!"She smiled. "It seems to me,You all had better come to tea," Said Mother.
As through the sunset field astirWe three went following after her,The thrushes they sang everywhere;Something had banished all our care,And we felt strong enough to bear All things—with Mother.
And listen: Once there came a dayWhen troops returned from far away,And every one went up to meetHis own, within the village street.But ere he reached our old milestoneI knew that Father came alone— And not with Brother,
Then through the twilight, dense and gray,All that our choking sobs could say Was—"Who'll tell Mother."
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