One came to the house with a pretty speech:
‘It’s all for the best,' said he,
And I know that he sought my heart to reach,
And I know that he grieved with me.
But I was too full of my sorrow then
To list to his words or care;
Though I’ve tried I cannot recall again
The comfort he gave me there.
But another came, and his lips were dumb
As he grasped me by the hand,
And he stammered: 'Old man, I had to come,
Oh, I hope you’ll understand.’
And ever since then I have felt his hand
Clasped tightly in my own,
And to—day his silence I understand—
My sorrowing he had known.
Other works by Edgar Albert Guest...
