The Answered Prayer

In fair Brittany we wandered,Loitering on our pleasant way,—Adding to the cherished picturesThat kind Memory holds to-day:And among the very fairest,With its setting quaint and old,Deem I this, whose touching pathos,Has a charm the heart to hold.

A wan, crippled little maiden,With a sweet and patient face,And a voice whose mournful cadenceGave her words a touching grace.—Oft we saw her in our rambles,Sitting by the flower-edged way,And we marked the tender kindness,Of her little mates at play.

Thus one morn we saw her sitting,And her smile such radiance shed,That she seemed a saintly maiden,With a halo o'er her head.And we questioned, "Was she better?"While she softly answered "Nay,But I shall be soon, for surelyChrist will hear my mother pray."

Days sped on, another morningAnd a bier strewn sweet with flowers,Told us she indeed was betterIn a fairer world than ours.So unto the mother's prayingThe dear Lord had answered best,And instead of earthly comfort,He had given Heavenly rest.