328 AUNT ABBY S WINGS.
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 !
��AUNT ABBY S WINGS.
" \ \ 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?