Only a Curl.

I.

FRIENDS of faces unknown and a land

Unvisited over the sea,

Who tell me how lonely you stand

With a single gold curl in the hand

Held up to be looked at by me, --

II.

While you ask me to ponder and say

What a father and mother can do,

With the bright fellow-locks put away

Out of reach, beyond kiss, in the clay

Where the violets press nearer than you.

III.

Shall I speak like a poet, or run

Into weak womans tears for relief ?

Oh, children ! -- I never lost one, --

Yet my arm s round my own little son,

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