Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MENDICANTS, by M. E. H. EVERETTE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

MENDICANTS, by                    
First Line: Foot-sore, weary, o'er the hills
Last Line: Sings her voice in glad content.
Alternate Author Name(s): Everett, M. E. H.
Subject(s): Begging & Beggars


"FOOT-SORE, weary, o'er the hills
To your friendly door I come.
I'm a mother; in my breast
I have wrapped my only son.
Lady, blessed of the Three,
Give us shelter for a night.
Pure and wise they say thou art,
Pity one by fate bedight."

Calm and grave the maiden stood;
Eyed that weary mother long,
Drooping form, despairing face,
Eyes pathetic with great wrong.
"Enter," gently then she spake,
"Peace be thine from skies above,
Only I have closed my door,
Closed and barred it fast from Love."

By the hearthstone warm and bright
Sits the mother crooning low;
Ah! an arrow's silver gleam,
Flashes of a golden bow!
Soft she sways a dimpled child
Winged with down, and innocent;
"Hush thee, Eros, -- sleep, my son,"
Sings her voice in glad content.





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