 | Short poems for short people |  |
21
AT THE CLOSET-DOOR.
I 'm here at the closet-door, Lily:
Mamma does n't know that I 'm here;
Your sobbing was truly so awful
I thought I might comfort you, dear.
Mamma does n't know that I 'm here;
Your sobbing was truly so awful
I thought I might comfort you, dear.
Now please don't imagine it 's merely
To give you advice that I came;
Advice, when a body feels angry,
Is like fuel added to flame.
To give you advice that I came;
Advice, when a body feels angry,
Is like fuel added to flame.
And yet if you only will listen
To three or four words, I am sure
The trial of asking for pardon
Won't seem quite so hard to endure.
To three or four words, I am sure
The trial of asking for pardon
Won't seem quite so hard to endure.
It is n't as if you were asking
A stranger's forgiveness—ah, no!
Mamma would just die to defend you
From harm, Lill; I'm certain it 's so.
A stranger's forgiveness—ah, no!
Mamma would just die to defend you
From harm, Lill; I'm certain it 's so.
She suffers more deeply than you do—
Believe it—in having you here.
There is n't a tear you are shedding
That somehow don't cost her a tear.
Believe it—in having you here.
There is n't a tear you are shedding
That somehow don't cost her a tear.
22
And only because you are precious
Your faults are things hateful to see;
No buds will make beautiful roses
Unless we give care to the tree.
Your faults are things hateful to see;
No buds will make beautiful roses
Unless we give care to the tree.
Be good, and just ask mamma's pardon,
Or else you'll repent it, some day.
I 've been in dark closets myself, Lill;
Experience teaches, they say.
Or else you'll repent it, some day.
I 've been in dark closets myself, Lill;
Experience teaches, they say.
| Short poems for short people | |