The Pity of It.That gathers on some festal day, To mark the lowly and the proud, Aglow with mirth, and think that they Are but a throng of masquers gay. 'Tis true that some show signs of grief; Yon sad-eyed widow wears her weeds; Yon mother mourns her fallen leaf, And tells you how her bosom bleeds. Yon soldier, battered in the wars, Moving with painful step, and slow, Limps proudly, proudly wears his scars;___ Such hurts as these all men may know. But deeper sorrow, keener throes, Are hidden by a careless smile, And laughter on the lips the while The heart is torn and no one knows. The pity of this earthly life Is, that the deepest heartaches lie Beyond the reach of sympathy; The sorest wounds are got in strife Waged in the dark, where none may see, Oft hiding still the rankling knife That tortures with slow misery, I see my neighbor come and go With airy speech and smiling lip; I call him gay___I little know What unseen hand, with deadly grip Clutches his heart, what tortures slow Wears out his life, while borne alone, As ceaseless dropping wears a stone. If floods destroy, if tires consume, Full hands reach out in charity; Across misfortune's darkest gloom Shine kindly rays of sympathy; If a friend dies a tolling bell May to the world the story tell. But deeper griefs than these there be___ The death's head in the closet hid Is ghastlier than the still white face, Or the cold hands, in waxen grace Lying beneath the coffin lid. A living woe from mortal eyes Is curtained close; the d! rest strife Is in the breast___And herein lies The pity of this earthly life. __Ellen P. Allerton. |
Walls of Corn and Other Poems
Ellen P. Allerton
(Hiawatha, KS: Harrington Printing Company. 1894)
Pages 163-164
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