Poems (Linn)/Dead Pain

by Edith Willis Linn

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 see
A 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.