The Widow’s Mite

A WIDOW—she had only one! A puny and decrepit son; But, day and night, Though fretful oft, and weak and small, A loving child, he was her all— The Widow’s Mite. The Widow’s Mite—ay, so sustained, She battled onward, nor complained, Though friends were fewer: And while she toiled for daily fare, A little crutch upon the stair Was music to her. I saw her then,—and now I see That, though resigned and cheerful, she Has sorrowed much: She has, He gave it tenderly, Much faith; and carefully laid by, The little crutch.

Collection: 
English
1841
Frederick Locker-Lampson
Sub Title: 
V. Death and Bereavement

More from Poet

  • On an Old Muff

    Time has a magic wand! What is this meets my hand, Moth-eaten, mouldy, and Covered with fluff, Faded and stiff and scant? Can it be? no, it can’t,— Yes,—I declare ’t is Aunt Prudence’s Muff! Years ago—twenty-three! Old Uncle Barnaby Gave it to Aunty P., Laughing and teasing,— “Pru....

  • The Jester’s Plea

    [Published in a volume by several authors for the benefit of the starving weavers of Lancashire during the American civil war.] THE WORLD! Was jester ever in A viler than the present? Yet if it ugly be—as sin, It almost is—as pleasant! It is a merry world (pro tem.); And some are gay,...

  • The Widow’s Mite

    A WIDOW—she had only one! A puny and decrepit son; But, day and night, Though fretful oft, and weak and small, A loving child, he was her all— The Widow’s Mite. The Widow’s Mite—ay, so sustained, She battled onward, nor complained, Though friends were fewer: And while she toiled for daily...

  • To My Grandmother

    Suggested by a Picture by Mr. Romney THIS relative of mine, Was she seventy-and-nine When she died? By the canvas may be seen How she looked at seventeen, As a bride. Beneath a summer tree, Her maiden reverie Has a charm; Her ringlets are in taste; What an arm!… what a waist For an arm!...