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Title: The Uncomforted
Author: James Whitcomb Riley [
More Titles by Riley]
Lelloine! Lelloine! Don't you hear me calling?
Calling through the night for you, and calling through the day;
Calling when the dawn is here, and when the dusk is falling--
Calling for my Lelloine the angels lured away!
Lelloine! I call and listen, starting from my pillow--
In the hush of midnight, Lelloine! I cry,
And o'er the rainy window-pane I hear the weeping willow
Trail its dripping leaves like baby-fingers in reply.
Lelloine, I miss the glimmer of your glossy tresses,
I miss the dainty velvet palms that nestled in my own;
And all my mother-soul went out in answerless caresses,
And a storm of tears and kisses when you left me here alone.
I have prayed, O Lelloine, but Heaven will not hear me,
I can not gain one sign from Him who leads you by the hand;
And O it seems that ne'er again His mercy will come near me--
That He will never see my need, nor ever understand.
Won't you listen, Lelloine?--just a little leaning
O'er the walls of Paradise--lean and hear my prayer,
And interpret death to Him in all its awful meaning,
And tell Him you are lonely without your mother there.
[The end]
James Whitcomb Riley's poem: Uncomforted
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