Page:Poems Crandall.djvu/50

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A shade of grief—of pity
  On the face of Beauty fell;
"I pine for my sister Health," she said,
  "You drove her away, farewell."

A weary, sad-eyed woman
  Bewails her lonely lot,
And spends her days in an endless search
  For Beauty. She finds her not.



Gaurd the door
  It flew from a mother's lips,
  It pierced a loving heart,
A harsh rebuke for a child's mistake;
  The hot tears quickly start.

  But a sense of bitter shame,
  In the mother's breast is stirred;
For an acquaintance passing by,
  The unkind speech has heard.

  And did she then forget
  The friend that is always near?
That never slumbers—ever waits
  Our lightest tone to hear?

  And is it naught, that she
  Should grieve the One above?
And, is a passing friend's regard
  Prized more than her children's love?

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