POETRY.
COMFORT.
Now she need dread no more to greet Too old for him; she need not know The bitterness when he who was All hers turns to some younger face; And she his mother stands aside Bidding her heart be satisfied.
She need not to her own heart say : Fool, to be jealous! Now give way! The young are for the young and all The new things are but natural. Cast no least shadow on his feast, Be glad that you are second-best.
She need not to her chill heart tell She's loved a different way but well.
Nor like that bird who leans her heart
Upon a thorn to ease its smart
Turn to the child who's taken his love. And love her, so her son approve. Now she's no longer dispossessed— For second-best's but second-best— He's hers for all Eternity And she his one felicity.
He's hers, being dead, as when he lay Small in her arms one heavenly day.
KATHARINE TTNSN.
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