God, pity broken little families Where there were four and now there are but three; Where there were three and now there are but one or two; Pray, comfort these as Thou alone canst do. Send peace to houses where there is a crib, Too wrinkleless its wild-rose-bordered spread, Too smooth its pillow that, brief days ago, Hollowed to hold a tiny, curl-framed head; Or where an untouched place is laid above An empty chair, facing which one must sit And sup alone; or where a chintz-hung room No more has gay, untidy youth in it; Or where a curtain now hangs straight that long Was knotted up so that a fragile hand Might wave to neighbors as they came and went Past two tired eyes across the wintry land. . . God, teach all broken little families To bear such losses self-conqueringly. . . Understanding each other, day by day, more instinctively, Forbearing each other, day by day, more patiently, Growing, day by day, more closely into oneness with each other. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BLACK REGIMENT by GEORGE HENRY BOKER ON THIS DAY I COMPLETE MY THIRTY-SIXTH YEAR by GEORGE GORDON BYRON BACCHANALIA; OR, THE NEW AGE by MATTHEW ARNOLD THREE THROWS AND ONE by JANE BARLOW TO THINE OWN SELF BE TRUE by PAKENHAM THOMAS BEATTY THE TIME FOR PRAYER by G. BENNETT EPITAPH ON MR. JOHN SMYTH, CHAPLAIN TO THE EARL OF PEMBROKE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |