 | The Comrades |  |
122
Suspirium
These little shoes!—How proud she was of these!Can you forget how, sitting on your knees,
She used to prattle volubly, and raise
Her tiny feet to win your wondering praise?
Was life too rough for feet so softly shod,
That now she walks in Paradise with God,
Leaving but these—whereon to dote and muse—
These little shoes?
| The Comrades | |