They say He was a serious child, <br />And quiet in His ways; <br />They say the gentlest lady smiled <br />To hear the neighbors' praise. <br /> <br />The coffers of her heart would close <br />Upon their smaliest word. <br />Yet did they say, "How tall He grows!" <br />They thought she had not heard. <br /> <br />They say upon His birthday eve <br />She'd rock Him to His rest <br />As if she could not have Him leave <br />The shelter of her breast. <br /> <br />The poor must go in bitter thrift, <br />The poor must give in pain, <br />But ever did she get a gift <br />To greet His day again. <br /> <br />They say she'd kiss the Boy awake, <br />And hail Him gay and clear, <br />But oh, her heart was like to break <br />To count another year.<br /><br />Dorothy Parker<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-gentlest-lady/
