Poems (Jenkins)/The Letter
Jump to navigation
Jump to search
The Letter
SHE read the words of him that was her own:
The dauntless brow that grief itself had steeled
Quickened with listening ever, not in vain
Amid brave stories of the stricken field,
For strange, sad echoes from a child's heart grown
Untimely old, that scarce will dance again
This side the grave, but nathless keeps a leaven
Of mirth most bitter sweet.
So changed her face, 'twixt pride and sorrowing,
As stirs and shadows sun-bleached wheat
With winds that walk the stair of heaven
And high clouds hovering.
The dauntless brow that grief itself had steeled
Quickened with listening ever, not in vain
Amid brave stories of the stricken field,
For strange, sad echoes from a child's heart grown
Untimely old, that scarce will dance again
This side the grave, but nathless keeps a leaven
Of mirth most bitter sweet.
So changed her face, 'twixt pride and sorrowing,
As stirs and shadows sun-bleached wheat
With winds that walk the stair of heaven
And high clouds hovering.