SISTER SORROW.
I FOUND her walking in a lonely place, Where shadows lingered and the day was low; She trod a devious path with footsteps slow, And by the waning light I scanned her face, And in its loveliness beheld the trace Old tears had left, and woes of long ago; Then knew she I was kin to her, and so Stretched forth her chill, soft hand with welcoming grace.
Now I walk with her through her realm of shade— I hear gay music sound, and laughter ring, And voices call me that I knew of old, But of their mocking mirth I am afraid,— Led through the dusk by her to whom I cling, May I not reach some blessedness untold?