Home They Brought Her Warrior

Home they brought her warrior dead: She nor swoon’d, nor utter’d cry: All her maidens, watching, said, “She must weep or she will die.”

Then they praised him, soft and low, Call’d him worthy to be loved, Truest friend and noblest foe; Yet she neither spoke nor moved.

Stole a maiden from her place, Lightly to the warrior stept, Took the face-cloth from the face; Yet she neither moved nor wept.

Rose a nurse of ninety years, Set his child upon her knee-- Like summer tempest came her tears-- “Sweet my child, I live for thee.” --ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON.

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The world goes up and the world goes down, And the sunshine follows the rain; And yesterday’s sneer and yesterday’s frown Can never come over again. --KINGSLEY.