Poems (Argent)/A Little Worn-out Shoe

by Alice Emily Argent

"A LITTLE WORN-OUT SHOE."

I AM holding in my fingers,
 By the fireside's ruddy glow,
Something which is worn and faded
 In the years of long ago.

Tis a little shoe of leather,
 Trodden down at heel—and yet,
There is still the tiny imprint
 Of a foot I'll ne'er forget.

And a hidden sorrow stealeth,
 And a grief which doth not speak
Overwhelms me till the colour
 Dieth out of lip and cheek.

Once again two blue eyes beameth
 And a hand steals into mine,
And a form doth nestle closely
 In its tenderness divine.

And a childish ring of laughter
 Wiles away my grief and tears,
Till again my heart seems living
 In those pleasant far-off years.

Seventeen summers long have flitted
 Over bow'r and bird and tree,
Bringing sunshine and a gladness
 Over everything but me!

Seventeen winters cold and frosted
 Laid their snows and crystal tears,
Over little Eric's tombstone,
 Moss-grown by the damp of years.

Ah! that little shoe recalleth
 All the joy and all the pain,
Which was mine to store and garnish
 But will ne'er be mine again.

For beneath a cross of marble,
 Purer than the driven snow,
Little Eric sleeps securely
 In the green earth's arms below!

'Bove his little grave bloom roses,
 Jasmine twineth round his feet,
And a tender lily foldeth
 All the air in fragrance sweet.

Long I love to linger fondly
 By the fireside's ruddy glow,
Gazing on that shoe all faded
 In the years of long ago!!