POETRY.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2058, 28 September 1880, Page 3

POETRY.

the bottom: drawee. [From the " Boston Commonwealth."] There are whips and tops and pieces of strings, There are shoes which no little feet wear, There are bits of ribbon and broken rings, And treeses of golden hair ; There are little dresses folded away Out of the light of the sunny day. There are dainty jackets that never are worn : There are tors and models of ships : There are books and pictures all faded and torn, And marked by the finger-tips Of dimpled hands that have fallen to dust, Yet I strive to think that the Lord is just. But a feeling of bitterness fills my soul Sometimes, when I try to pray, That the reaper has spared go many flowers, And taketh mine away, And I almost doubt that the LjtS. can know That a mother's heart can love them so. Then I think of the many weary ones Who are waiting and watching to-night For the slow retreat of faltering feet That have strayed from the paths of right: Who have darkened their lives by shame and sin, Whom the snares of the tempter have gathered in. They wander far in distant climes; They perish by fire and flood : And their hands are black with the direst crimes That kindled the wrath of God ; Yet a mother's song has soothed them to rest, She hatn lulled them to slumber upon her breast. And then I think of my children three— My babies that never grow old— And know they are waiting and watching for me la the city with streets of gold— Safe, safe from the cares of the t\ eary years, from sorrow, and sin, and war, And I thank my God, with falling tears, For the things in the bottom drawer.