Cherished Poems by @KatyWalters07

I took these poems from a very old book of poetry published in 1891. It is a favorite book for me as it was given to me by my late great uncle. He read them to me of an evening as we sat by an open coal fire.

I am sure my love of literature & poetry was born through him.  He always said he would leave the book to me, and on his sad passing, I received the cherished poems. Some of the poets included in the book do date further back than the nineteenth century.

Book Title: The Thousand Best Poems

Selected and arranged by E. W. Cole.

Publishers: London – Hutchinson & Co. Ltd. Paternoster Row, Melbourne: Coles Book Arcade

The Little Darling’s Shoe

There is a sacred secret place,

Baptized by tears and sighs,

Where little half-worn shoes are kept,

From cold unfeeling eyes.

They have no meaning, save to her

Whose darling’s feet have strayed

Far from the sacred folds of love,

Where late in joy they played.

The impress of a little foot,

How can it be so dear!

How can a little half-worn shoe

Call forth a sigh or tear!

‘Tis more than dear,’ tis eloquent

Of grace and beauty fled;

It waits the sound of little feet –

Sweet sound forever fled.

It whispers to the mother’s ear

A tail of fondest love;

It tells that the little feet –

Now tread the fields above.

Oft has she bathed it with her tears,

Oft kiss’d it o’er and o’er;

If it were filled with costliest gems,

She could not love it more.

Poems

My Bud in Heaven

One bud the Gardener gave me,

A fair and only child,

He gave it to my keeping,

To cherish undefiled;

It lay upon my bosom,

It was my hope, my pride;

Perhaps it was an idol

Which I must be denied.

For just as it was opening,

In glory to the day,

Came down the heavenly Gardener

And took the bud away.

Yet in wrath He took it,

A smile was on His face;

And tenderly and kindly

He bore it from its place.

Fear not, methought He whispered,

Thy bud will be restored,

I take it but plant it

In the garden of my Lord.

Then bid me not to sorrow.

As those who hopeless weep,

For He who gave hath taken,

And He who took can keep.

And night and morn together,

By the open gate of prayer,

I’ll go unto my darling,

And sit beside him there

I know ‘twill open for me,

Poor sinner ‘tho, I be,

For His dear sake who keeps it

And keeps my bud for me.

Mother and Babe 2

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