English poem
The Fortunate One
by Harriet Monroe (1860–1936)
Beside her ashen hearth she sate her down, Whence he she loved had fled; His children plucking at her somber gown, And calling for the dead.
One came to her clad in the robes of May, And said sweet words of cheer, Bidding her bear her burden in God's way, And feel her loved one near.
And she who spake thus would have given, thrice blest, Long lives of happy years To clasp his children to a mother's breast, And weep his widow's tears.