Gladys Cromwell

From “Songs of the Dust”

SORROW can wait,

For there is magic in the calm estate

Of grief; lo, where the dust complies

Wisdom lies.

Sorrow can rest,

Indifferent, with her head upon her breast;

Idle and hushed, guarded from fears;

Content with tears.

Sorrow can bide,

With sealèd lids and hands unoccupied.

Sorrow can fold her latent might,

Dwelling with night.

But Sorrow will rise

From her dream of sombre and hushed eternities.

Lifting a Child, she will softly move

With a mother’s love.

She will softly rise.

Her embrace the dying will recognize,

Lifting them gently through strange delight

To a clearer light.