A BABY'S boot and a skein of wool, Faded and soiled and soft; Odd things, you say, and I doubt you're right, Round a seaman's neck, this stormy night, Up in the yards aloft. Most likely it's folly; but, mate, look here! When first I went to sea, A woman stood on yon far-off strand With a wedding ring on the small soft hand Which clung close to me. My wife, -- God bless her! -- the day before Sat she beside my foot; And the sunlight kissed her yellow hair, And the dainty fingers, deft and fair, Knitted a baby's boot. The voyage was over; I came ashore; What think you I found there? A grave the daisies had sprinkled white, A cottage empty and dark at night, And this beside the chair. The little boot, 't was unfinished still; The tangled skein lay near; But the knitter had gone away to her rest, With the babe asleep on her quiet breast, Down in the churchyard drear. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A POET'S EPITAPH by EBENEZER ELLIOTT ON LOOKING INTO GOLDING'S OVID by STEVE SCAFIDI JR. ON A MOURNER by ALFRED TENNYSON EASTER DAY [IN ROME] by OSCAR WILDE AT THE GRAVE OF DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI by H. T. MACKENZIE BELL THE TROUBLED SPIRIT by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE LAST BATTLE OF THE CID by ADA CAMBRIDGE |