Edward
Published by Webmaster on 07/30/2003 (2702 reads)Of children we had only one;
Alas! A little crippled son
Was all I bore;
And after seen years of care
And gloom and grief we did not dare
To pray for more.
Now Edward's hair is almost white
And mine is gentling in the light
With silver touch;
We're growing old . . . it's long ago,
Yet still I clasp with heart of woe
I tiny crutch.
I keep it up the garret stair,
Well hid, for Edward cannot bear
To look on it;
He thought that I had best destroy
This sad memento of a boy
For life unfit.
I wonder if he did not blame
Me darkly that the lad was lame -
I've heard him say
There was not in his family
A taint of ill and sound was he
In every way.
He freezes up, his face is set,
He fondly thinks he can forget
Yet evermore
I know, like me, with inner ear
A ghostly tap tap he will hear
Upon the floor.
For mouse-like as I climbed the stair
I cam on him all unaware
And saw him clutch
Close in his arms with weary woe,
And sob and sob with grief, although
It's oh so long and long ago -
A tiny crutch.
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Herbert
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