The Great War

from Herb o' Grace, an electronic edition

Comfort

Now she need dread no more to grow

Too old for him, she need not know

The bitterness when he who was

All hers turns to some younger face,

And she his mother stands aside,

Bidding her heart be satisfied.

She need not to her own heart say,

"Fool, to be jealous! Now give way.

The young are for the young, and all

The new things are but natural.

Cast no least shadow on his feast;

Be glad just to be second best."

She need not to her chill heart tell

She's loved a different way, but well.

And like that bird who leans her heart

Upon a thorn to ease its smart

Turn to the child who's taken his love

So that her darling son approve.

Now she's no longer dispossessed --

For second best's but second best --

He's hers for all Eternity

And she his one felicity.

Her little son, as when he lay

Small in her arms one heavenly day.