Poems: By Menella Bute Smedley | ||
Up and down the fields and streets
Each man that his neighbour meets
Hurries darkly from the place,
Looking in that other face
With a wild and shrinking eye,
For he fears to see him die;
But the women patient sit,
Waiting death, not dreading it,
For each one of them would fain
Join some well-beloved again;
Take this comfort, tearful throng,
You have not to linger long!
Each man that his neighbour meets
Hurries darkly from the place,
Looking in that other face
With a wild and shrinking eye,
For he fears to see him die;
But the women patient sit,
Waiting death, not dreading it,
For each one of them would fain
Join some well-beloved again;
Take this comfort, tearful throng,
You have not to linger long!
Poems: By Menella Bute Smedley | ||