Many a new day

The Mother Who Died Too

She was so little- little in her grave,

    The wide earth all around so hard and cold-

She was so little! therefore did I crave

    My arms might still her tender form enfold.

She was so little, and her cry so weak

     When she among the heavenly children came-

She was so little- I alone might speak

     For her who knew no word nor her own name.

-Edith M. Thomas

First Fig

My candle burns at both ends;

     It will not last the night;

But ah, my foes and oh, my friends-

    It gives a lovely light.

-Edna St. Vincent Millay