THE WEE PINK SHOE.

THE WEE PINK SHOE.
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Naught but a little wee pink shoe,
A thuy half worn number “two!”
As color faded, palen with years,
Stained here and there with taint of tears.

Naught but a little wee pink shoe
That I in bitter anguish threw
In secret bottom drawer one day
When skles were desolate and gray.

Naught but n wwe pink shoe I found,
Yet far to white crossed, daisied mound
It led my heart again-egrin
My burning tears foll like the rain.

As on that day I knelt and pressed
A cold still form unto my breast,
A liiting baby name in vain
I fondly called again, again.

God pity women, mothers, who
Weep o’er a hidden, half worn shoe
Rebelliously almost-regret
Hath sting sharp, lingering-yet-yet

E’er sacred, hallowed is the breast
That warm red baby lips have pressed-
Forgive, dear Lord, the ory, the moan,
And those, the ones who’ve never known

That gracious, wondrous gift of thine,
The boon of motherhood divine;
O pity more-what joy they’ve missed
Who never new born lips have kissed-

Whose throbbing hearts with trust and pride-
In ecstasy hath never cried,
“By right of love supreme, divine,
This little one in mine, is mine!”
-Kathleen Kavanaugh