THE WIDOW’S WEALTH.
Reading edition
———
BY E. CLEMENTINE STEDMAN.
———
Addressed to my little boy, who, on seeing me weep at pecuniary misfortunes, brought a silver piece which had been presented to him, and with tears in his eyes, said—“Mother, will this do you any good?”
Nay, keep thy gift my precious boy!
It but a drop would be
From the wide ocean of the wants
That are oppressing me.
But blessings on the tender heart
From whence the offering rose—
Which fain would give its ‘little all,’
To soothe a mother’s woes!
Ah! when I gaze on thee my child,
I feel that wealth is mine;
For gems of the “first water,” are
Those guileless tears of thine.
’Tis thy caress, my blessed one!
The hopes in thee bound up,
That bid my thanks ascend to Heaven
O’er sorrow’s bitter cup.
And shall thy noble soul expand
To manhood’s ripened years?
And will a mother’s sorrow then,
Have power to move thy tears?
Then come——and whilst I fold thee here,
My widowed heart is blest;
Nor would I for a fortune sell
The “jewel” on my breast.