Page:Patriotic pieces from the Great War, Jones, 1918.djvu/106

102 MARY

Permission of the Yale Review, New Haven, Conn.

Mary! I'm quite alone in all the world,

Into this bright sharp pain of anguish hurled.

Death's plunged me deep in hell, and given me wings

For terrible strange vastnesses; no hand

In all this empty spirit-driven space; I stand

Alone and whimpering in my soul. I plod

Among wild stars, and hide my face from God.

God frightens me. He's strange. I know Him not,

And all my usual prayers I have forgot:

But you—you had a son—I remember now.

You are not Mary of the virgin brow.

You agonized for Jesus. You went down

Into the ugly depths for him. Your crown

Is my crown. I have seen you in the street,

Begging your way for broken bread and meat:

I've seen you in trams, in shops, among old faces,

Young eyes, brave lips, broad backs, in all the places

Where women work, and weep, in pain, in pride.

Your hands were gnarled that held him when he died,