The Spinster

They laid the child in her unwilling arms-
The child of him she loved, and might have wed
Had not this sister snared him with her charms.
To hide her smouldering eyes she bent her head
They should not know how ill her pride had fared,
Upon what hidden anguish it had fed,
How she had cried in secret to be spared
This final cup of gall, this bitter bread!
Then tendril fingers with a frail caress
Opened the flood-gates of her heart, the flume
Of her affection flowed with tenderness;
Her sallow face relaxed in sudden bloom.
The grievances of years were reconciled
Within an instant, when -the baby smiled.

DOROTHY HUMES.