ONCE, long ago, a little one of mine Would take my hand and look into my face As if she magically might divine My tempted heart, my imminent disgrace; And by that handclasp and that wistful look Would turn me safely in the better way; Her faith so perfect that I could not brook The thought of aught to waken her dismay. That little one is vanished; o'er her head Blow summer blooms, and on her stone you read The simple story of the life she led, Joyance in semblance, pure in every deed. And even yet, across the dim of years, How many, comes in the old pleading guise, To keep me clean from all that soils and sears, The Christ-like candor of those early eyes! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HEROIC LOVE by JAMES GRAHAM (1612-1650) THE BABIE by JEREMIAH EAMES RANKIN THE YELLOW BADGE by RUTH SCHECHTER ALEXANDER PIONEER WOMAN by EVA K. ANGLESBURG TESTAMENT FOR MY STUDENTS, 1968 - 1969 by KAY BOYLE TREES IN AUTUMN by ANNE MILLAY BREMER |