TWO LOVES.
297
Knelt beside you when your spirit Glided from its mortal bands;Felt the faint, despairing kisses Of your swiftly waning life;And caught the last sweet whisper Of those precious words: "My wife."
I have held our little children To my lonely, aching breast,Praying God to give us shelter— Just a quiet place of rest.But the world is cold and careless Of the living and the dead;Though I bore my burden bravely, I could scarcely earn our bread.
My slender form grew faint, dear, Beneath the toil and pain;My cheeks were pallid with the tears That fell like bitter rain,The way grew dark and darker still Before my weary feet,Until my bowed and broken heart Had almost ceased to beat.