TO MARY ELLIOTT FLANERY by EFFIE WALLER SMITH

When looking down the vista
Of long-departed years,
Your eyes may for a moment
Perhaps be dimmed with tears.

As a longing for the gone-by days
Of youth fills up your breast;
A longing that cannot be quenched,
Or wholly be suppressed.

A longing for the heights of fame
You might have once attained,
For the praise, applause and glory
You might have sweetly gained.

A longing to rise over
The sordid, struggling host;
But Fate had destined you, my dear,
To fill a different post.

Though now you do not longer yearn
For an illustr'ous name,
For the applause and praise of men,
For fortune or for fame.
The high position which you fill,
How few have understood;
Or known its sacred beauty --
Of wife and motherhood!

And what if household cares may check
At times the genial flow
Of innate genius in your soul,
You still take time to sow
Seeds of true love and kindness
Wherever you may go.

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

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