Yet she never blamed him:-
One day you shall know
How this sorrow happened;
It was long ago.
I have read the letter:
Many a weary year,
For one word she hungered—
There are thousands here.
If she could but hear it,
Could but understand;
See—I put the letter
In her cold white hand.
Even these words, so longed for,
Do not stir her rest;
Well—I should not murmur,
For God judges best.
She needs no more pity,—
But I mourn his fate,
When he hears his letter
Came a day too late.
VERSE: THE REQUITAL
Loud roared the Tempest,
Fast fell the sleet;
A little Child Angel
Passed down the street,
With trailing pinions,
And weary feet.
The moon was hidden;
No stars were bright;
So she could not shelter
In heaven that night,
For the Angels’ ladders
Are rays of light.
She beat her wings
At each window pane,
And pleaded for shelter,
But all in vain:—
“Listen,” they said,
“To the pelting rain!”
She sobbed, as the laughter
And mirth grew higher,
“Give me rest and shelter
Beside your fire,
And I will give you
Your heart’s desire.”