 | The Triangular Society |  |
330
BERTIE.
All winter, walking up and down,
I met him every day,
And watched his beauty with delight—
A merry boy at play.
His tender face was rosy fair,
A winsome face to kiss;
“A happy mother she,” I said,
“Who owns a child like this!”
I met him every day,
And watched his beauty with delight—
A merry boy at play.
His tender face was rosy fair,
A winsome face to kiss;
“A happy mother she,” I said,
“Who owns a child like this!”
I was a stranger—still he learned
To know my face at last,
And met my greeting with a smile
Of welcome as I passed.
His curls danced brightly in the wind,
His laugh rang sweet and far,
His soft brown eyes were frank and clear
As babes' or angels' are.
To know my face at last,
And met my greeting with a smile
Of welcome as I passed.
His curls danced brightly in the wind,
His laugh rang sweet and far,
His soft brown eyes were frank and clear
As babes' or angels' are.
One day I did not hear his voice
In the accustomed place;
I sought in vain his dancing curls—
I missed his happy face;
And yesterday the cruel words
I read with bitter pain,
Which told me I should never see
His lovely eyes again.
In the accustomed place;
I sought in vain his dancing curls—
I missed his happy face;
And yesterday the cruel words
I read with bitter pain,
331
His lovely eyes again.
The street is full of children still—
They run and laugh and call,
But yet I miss the shy sweet face
I prized above them all;
And I shall walk my morning way
Alas, a weary while,
Ere I forget the lovely boy
Who gave me smile for smile.
They run and laugh and call,
But yet I miss the shy sweet face
I prized above them all;
And I shall walk my morning way
Alas, a weary while,
Ere I forget the lovely boy
Who gave me smile for smile.
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