Verse > Anthologies > Andrew Macphail, ed. > The Book of Sorrow
Andrew Macphail, comp.  The Book of Sorrow.  1916.
X. The Pity of It
The Mother who died too
By Edith Matilda Thomas (1854–1925)
SHE was so little—little in her grave,
  The wide earth all around so hard and cold—
She was so little! therefore did I crave
  My arms might still her tender form enfold.
She was so little, and her cry so weak        5
  When she among the heavenly children came—
She was so little—I alone might speak
  For her who knew no word nor her own name.

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