Page:Poems Crandall.djvu/31

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Did they mourn him as husband, father and friend,
Or because he could earn no more money to spend?
Away with the thought, that could not be,
For there was his life insurance you see.
He had paid his dollars year by year
To provide for this wife and daughter dear,
  When crape should hang on the door.

Oh, pitifully small is the love we show
For our nearest and dearest. How can they know
The heart throbs true if the soul is stung
Day in and out by a peevish tongue,
  Until there is crape on the door.

The morrow came and the friends he knew
Dropped in by twos and by threes to view
The vacant house; as they came and went
  He could fancy it bore a card, For Rent.

Smith came with the rest to drop a tear,
They had not spoken for over a year;
"Oh John, 'twas my fault," he whispered low,
And the soul of John knew that this was so;
With outstretched hand, and with heart aglow,
Those words would have found him a week ago,
  But now there is crape on the door.

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