POETRY.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2354, 19 October 1881, Page 4

POETRY.

THINGS IN THE BOTTOM DEAWHB. . There are whips and tops and pieces of strings, There are oh :es which no little feet wear ; There are bits of ribbon and broken rings. And tresses of golden hair : There are little drosses folded away Out of the light of the sunny day. There are dainty jackets that never are worn, There are toys 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 duet, 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 Beaper has spared so many flowers, And taken mine away ; And I almost doubt that the Lord 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 return of the 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 hath soothed them to rest: She hath Inlled them to slumber upon her breast. And then I think of my children three, My babies that never grow old, And know that they are waiting and watching for me. In the city with streets of gold. Safe, safe from the cares of the weary years, From sorrow and sin and war. And I thank my God with falling tears, For the things in the bottom drawer.