Page:All quiet along the Potomac and other poems.djvu/334

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You whisper old trite consolations, Submission to things that must be ;

It wasn tjwrr trial j wise woman It wasn t your daughter, you see !

Above a short grave softly sighing,

A young mother weeps night and day ;

"It was only a baby," you whisper: It was hers and was taken away !


" \ \ 7ELL, children "the father spoke slowly, VV As one who has bad news to tell, Looking round on the half-score of youngsters, And round at his helpmeet as well

" It appears Uncle Abrarn left nothing ;

He died in the West a poor man ; Can we make a warm place for Aunt Abby ? Mother Ruth, do you think, dear, we can?"

Then the house-mother, shutting down softly Some housekeeper s doubts out of sight,

Giving up in her heart the big closet,

The " spare room " draped newly in white,

Beating back all the questions she queried

If Abby would worry at noise ? Was she nervous or full of queer notions ?

Would she lecture and scold the two boys?

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