Poems (Linn)/Dead Pain
DEAD PAIN.
LEARNED to take the hand of Pain And look within her tear-stained eyes; To pierce her fearful, dark disguise,And feel her teachings were not vain.
In youth's first flush, in love's first dream, One day, she came to stay with me; I hid my face; I would not seeA guest whose voice so harsh could seem.
I listened not to what she said. Sweet Pain, I know you better now; I weave white roses for your brow,And love you now that you are dead.
You dwelt beside me till I knew Your face was beautiful and fair; You drew my stubborn heart to prayer,You were so strong, so wise, so true
And just as I had learned to say, "Dear Pain!" you died, and to your grave I bring the treasure that you gave;A wealth of joy is mine to-day.