Poems (Argent)/A Little Worn-out Shoe
"A LITTLE WORN-OUT SHOE."
I AM holding in my fingers, By the fireside's ruddy glow,Something which is worn and faded In the years of long ago.
Tis a little shoe of leather, Trodden down at heel—and yet,There is still the tiny imprint Of a foot I'll ne'er forget.
And a hidden sorrow stealeth, And a grief which doth not speakOverwhelms me till the colour Dieth out of lip and cheek.
Once again two blue eyes beameth And a hand steals into mine,And a form doth nestle closely In its tenderness divine.
And a childish ring of laughter Wiles away my grief and tears,Till again my heart seems living In those pleasant far-off years.
Seventeen summers long have flitted Over bow'r and bird and tree, Bringing sunshine and a gladness Over everything but me!
Seventeen winters cold and frosted Laid their snows and crystal tears,Over little Eric's tombstone, Moss-grown by the damp of years.
Ah! that little shoe recalleth All the joy and all the pain,Which was mine to store and garnish But will ne'er be mine again.
For beneath a cross of marble, Purer than the driven snow,Little Eric sleeps securely In the green earth's arms below!
'Bove his little grave bloom roses, Jasmine twineth round his feet,And a tender lily foldeth All the air in fragrance sweet.
Long I love to linger fondly By the fireside's ruddy glow,Gazing on that shoe all faded In the years of long ago!!