56
HIS MOTHER'S WAY.
"He said that he would sleep to-night
With both the pistols at his head,
Because that ragged fellow might
Come back. That's what my Papa said!
With both the pistols at his head,
Because that ragged fellow might
Come back. That's what my Papa said!
"But Mamma goes and hides her face
There in the curtains, and peeps out
At him, and almost spoils the lace;—
And he is what she cries about!
There in the curtains, and peeps out
At him, and almost spoils the lace;—
And he is what she cries about!
"She says he looks so cold, so cold,
And has no pleasant place to stay!
Why can't he work? He is not old;
His eyes are blue—they've not turned grey.
And has no pleasant place to stay!
Why can't he work? He is not old;
His eyes are blue—they've not turned grey.
So the boy babbled. . . . Well, sweet sirs,
Flushed with your office-fires you write
Your laugh down at such grief as hers;
But are these women foolish quite?
Flushed with your office-fires you write
Your laugh down at such grief as hers;
But are these women foolish quite?
———I know. But, look you, there may be
Stains sad as wayside dust, I say,
Upon your own white hands (ah, me!)
No woman's tears can wash away.
Stains sad as wayside dust, I say,
Upon your own white hands (ah, me!)
No woman's tears can wash away.
