The Light-O'-Love

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Title:     The Light-O'-Love
Author: Howard V. Sutherland [More Titles by Sutherland]

The dogs were whining; they sensed too well
The load upon the sled;
The rough-hewn box with the light-o'-love--
A girl, 'twas said.

A week ago, at the Palace Bar,
She sang the songs of France;
But many a heart is lead the while
The feet must dance.

Kisses she gave and kisses she took,
Sinned for her daily bread;
But all we knew as we eyed the box
Was: she was dead.

We placed upon it (How much it hurt
Only the good God knows!)
A gaud she had worn in her dusky hair--
A paper rose.

A crumpled thing that seemed beautiful
To lonely, broken men,
Hinting of fairer flowers and things
Beyond our ken.

We thought of her as we closed her door
As somebody's little child;
As somebody's darling, lost, long lost,
But undefiled.

* * * * *

The grey above us, the white beneath;
Chill silence everywhere;
Yet deep in our hearts we knew that God
Was also there.

We knew, far better than others know
Whose ways are bright and glad,
His judgments are very merciful
On good and bad.

Our little sister was now at peace.
The snow began to fall.
The flakes soon hid that gift of ours
Beneath their pall.

Under the white, white flakes the rose,
Crumpled, tawdry and red;
Hinting the pity which all men need
When they are dead.

* * * * *

The dogs still whined as they dragged the sled
To where the spruces dream;
And there we left her, a wayward child,
At rest in Him.

[The end]
Howard V. Sutherland's poem: Light-O'-Love

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