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Poem by Frederick Locker-Lampson


The Widows Mite


St Marks Gospel, chap. xii. verses 42, 43, 44

The widow had but only one,
A puny and decrepid son;
   But day and night,
Though fretful oft, and weak, and small,
A loving child, he was her all
   The widows mite.

The widows mightyes! so sustaind
She battled onward, nor complaind
   Though friends were fewer:
And, cheerful at her daily care,
A little crutch upon the stair
   Was music to her.

I saw her then, and now I see,
Though cheerful and resignd, still she
   Has sorrowd much:
She hasHE gave it tenderly
Much faithand carefully laid by
   A little crutch.



Frederick Locker-Lampson


Frederick Locker-Lampson's other poems:
  1. My Life Is A
  2. My Firstborn
  3. The Old Clerk
  4. St Georges, Hanover Square
  5. The Pilgrims of Pall Mall


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