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Madeline

With other poems and parables: By Thomas Gordon Hake

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XXVII. ON THE WIDOW.
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215

XXVII. ON THE WIDOW.

O widow-woman, mourn the dead
Whom still your homestead needs,
Be crimped the muslin on your head,
And watered be your weeds.
All else, not only he, is gone;
Your life lay in his wake.
All will return, though one by one,
For old acquaintance sake.
A babe its thoughtless prattle brings,
Nor can it come amiss;
A child to every finger clings
And asks of you a kiss.
Smile at the little ones who say
Is father coming back?
Explain his death another day,
And take another tack.

216

Ere then how little did you know
What meant this pilgrimage!
Then own it vain the way to show
To those of tender age.
All will return, though not apace,
And God among the rest;
He can supply the husband's place,
The widow-woman's Guest.
The thoughts of the departed one
As models still are rife,
And bid you act as he had done
Ere he gave up his life.
Then all he did was not in vain
Should you its purpose find;
The words he used will do again
To speak your inner mind.

EPODE.

The orphans claim her; if a younger dame
She might in time have shared another name.
The world is careless where no harm can come,
But it is partial to the widow's home.
It finds the boy the means to use his head,
And shows the girl how best to earn her bread.