TO the house of the widow, Where she wept alone, There came a kind woman To the cold hearthstone: @3God touches His own,@1 she said, @3God touches His own.@1 Her tears fell so softly Without sigh or moan: @3God touches His own,@1 she said, @3'Tis well with His own. What is grief? What is Death?@1 she said, @3God touches His own.@1 In the desolate Winter day Ere she was gone, She turned once again to say At the threshold stone: @3What is life? What's the world?@1 she said, @3God touches His own.@1 The wind from over the bogs Like an echo blown, Brought back the word she had said: @3God touches His own. What is grief? What is Death?@1 she said, @3God touches His own.@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AND SO, I THINK DIOGENES by AMY LOWELL BOLDNESS IN LOVE by THOMAS CAREW MELANCHOLIA by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR EIGHT O'CLOCK by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN ODE (MUSIC-MAKERS) by ARTHUR WILLIAM EDGAR O'SHAUGHNESSY TO SENECA LAKE by JAMES GATES PERCIVAL ON THE SALE BY AUCTION OF KEATS' LOVE LETTERS by OSCAR WILDE COMPOSED BY THE SEA-SIDE NEAR CALAIS [AUGUST 1802] by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH INSCRIPTIONS: 2. FOR A STATUE OF CHAUCER AT WOODSTOCK by MARK AKENSIDE |