HER POEM:

“Ah, with torn heart I see them still,

Wee unused clothes and empty cot.

Though glad my love has missed the ill

That falls to woman's lot.

“No tangled paths for her to tread

Throughout the coming changeful years;

No desperate weird to dree and dread;

No bitter lonely tears!

“No woman's piercing crown of thorns

Will press my aching baby's brow;

No starless nights, no sunless morns,

Will ever greet her now.

“The clothes that I had wrought with care

Through weary hours for love's sweet sake

Are laid aside, and with them there

A heart that seemed to break.”