This page has been validated.
Death found it hard, for all his trying,
To shatter such a lance.
To shatter such a lance.
She laid him out as fine as any
That had a priest and ring;
She never spared a silver penny
For cost of anything.
That had a priest and ring;
She never spared a silver penny
For cost of anything.
Her grief is crowned with his child sucking
The milk of her distress,
As if his father’s hands were plucking
Her buds of bitterness.
The milk of her distress,
As if his father’s hands were plucking
Her buds of bitterness.
He may grow tall as any other,
Blest with his father’s face,
And yield her strength enough to smother
What some will call disgrace.
Blest with his father’s face,
And yield her strength enough to smother
What some will call disgrace.
He may be cursed and be concerned
With thoughts of right and wrong,
And brand with “Shame” these two that burned
Without the legal thong.
With thoughts of right and wrong,
And brand with “Shame” these two that burned
Without the legal thong.
Her man would say they were no rabble
To love like common clay,—
To love like common clay,—
40
