This page was last updated on: July 25, 2009
IN MEMORY OF TWO GRANDDAUGHTERS:
AIMEE WILLIAMS, 1 YEAR-OLD; AND OLLIE EFURD, 9 MONTHS-OLD.
MANY DAYS, A STRICKEN MOTHER,
TO HER LOSS WAS RECONCILED;
SHE WEPT, COMPLAINING,
"CRUEL DEATH HAS STOLEN MY CHILD."
BUT ONE NIGHT AS SHE WAS SLEEPING,
TO HER SOUL CAME A VISION,
SHE SAW HER LITTLE DAUGHTER
IN THE BLESSED FIELDS ELYSIAN.
ALL ALONE THE CHILD WAS STANDING;
A HEAVY PITCHER HOLDING.
THE MOTHER HASTENED TO HER,
AROUND HER ARMS UNFOLDING.
"WHY SO SAD AND LONELY?" ASKED SHE,
STROKING SOFT HER HAIR.
"SEE THE MANY MERRY CHILDREN
PLAYING IN THE GARDEN THERE?
"THEY'RE BECKONING, CALLING,
GO HELP THEM PICK THE FLOWERS.
PUT ASIDE THE HEAVY PITCHER.
DANCE AWAY THE SUNNY HOURS!"
FROM TENDER LIPS, A QUIVER;
THEN FELL THE ANSWER ON HER EARS:
"ON THE EARTH MY MOTHER'S WEEPING;
THIS PITCHER HOLDS HOLDS HER TEARS.
TEARS THAT TOUCH GOD'S BLOSSOMS,
SPOIL FLOWERS WHERE THEY FALL.
SO AS LONG AS SHE IS WEEPING,
I MUST STAND AND CATCH THEM ALL."
CRIED THE HEARTSICK MOTHER,
"RUN AND PLAY , SWEET CHILD OF MINE.
NEVER MORE SHALL TEARS OF SORROW
SPOIL YOUR HAPPINESS SUBLIME."
LIKE A BIRD RELEASED FROM BONDAGE,
SPED THE HAPPY CHILD AWAY.
THE MOTHER WOKE,
HER COURAGE STRENGTHENED,
EVERY SINGLE DAY.
