Page:Dora Sigerson Shorter - New Poems.djvu/16



good Lord gave, the Lord has taken from me, Blessed be His name, His holy will be done: The mourners all have gone, all save I, his mother, The little grave lies lonely in the sun.

Nay! I would not follow, though they did beseech me, For the angels come now waiting for my dead. Heaven’s door is open, so my whispers soar there, While the gentle angels lift him from his bed.

O Lord, when Thou gavest he was weak and helpless, Could not rise nor wander from my shielding arm; Lovely is he now and strong with four sweet summers, Laughing, running, tumbling, hard to keep from harm.