Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/Motherless
For other versions of this work, see Motherless.
MOTHERLESS
HE was so small, so very small,
That since she ceased to care,
'T was easy just to pass him by,
Forgetting he was there;
But though too slight a thing he seemed
Of interest to be,—
One heart had loved him with a love
As boundless as the sea.
He was so poor, so very poor,
That now, since she had died,
He seemed a tiny threadbare coat
With nothing much inside;
But, ah! a treasure he concealed,
And asked of none relief:
His shabby little bosom hid
A mighty, grown-up grief.