THERE are whips and tops and pieces of strings, There are shoes which no little feet wear, There are bits of ribbon and broken things, And tresses 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 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 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 a Reaper has spared so many flowers And taken mine away; And I almost doubt if the Lord can know That a mother's heart can love them so. And then I think of my children two-- My babes that never grew old; To know they are waiting and watching for you, 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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOVE'S SECRET, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE THE WIND (2) by EMILY DICKINSON MISS KILMANSEGG AND HER PRECIOUS LEG: HER DEATH by THOMAS HOOD TO SIR HENRY GOODYERE by BEN JONSON THE BIGLOW PAPERS. 2D SERIES. THE COURTIN' by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL IN THIS AGE OF HARD TRYING, NONCHALANCE IS GOOD AND by MARIANNE MOORE MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 7 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |