WE OF THE
I don’t deserve it
—I don’t deserve it.”
The doctor returned with a quiet woman who carried a suit-case.
She began to cry steadily, as the
“This is the nurse,” he said. “You
happy do. The doctor left the room
had better go now. You have been under a terrific strain, and you're all unstrung.” “If you don't mind,” she an swered, “I’d rather stay and help.”
to answer a knock on the outer door.
Against every law of health and cau tion, the woman of the world kissed her sister on the forehead.
I SAT APART BY LYDIA GODFREY
T# children danced a merry ring. I watched them whirl, I heard them sing, “Derry down, oh, derry down! The bride shall wear a myrtle crown.” Benumbed I sat apart. Three mothers chatted 'neath a tree
With matronly complacency: “My child is tall, and yours are fair. Your son stands with his father's air.”
But envy gloomed my heart. The ring gives way.
See each child hie,
An airy, darting dragonfly. “Derry down, oh, derry down! The wife shall wear a velvet gown.” I moaned my empty fate. Their heads 'gainst mothers' breasts they fling, Those ample breasts that poets sing, “The pliant bosom veined with blue How tenderly doth comfort you.” My clenched teeth were agrate. Was his child like these, lithe and fair, His lassie whom I might see ne'er? “Derry down, oh, derry down! She hath no babe to drive to town.”
I clutched my unfilled breast. But once again the quickening thrill Of his words pierced my heart's gray chill: “Above all earthly passion flows Our ideal love, which no one knows.” My spent soul smiled, at rest.