The Comforter

The Comforter

One came to me when love was dead,

“Be brave, be brave,” was all she said.

Another whispered: “Bear the blow,

It must be wisely ordered so.”

Still came a third whose thought was this:

“Be worthy of the one you miss.

Hold fast, although your heart may break,

And hide your grief for his dear sake!”

Then came a woman old who said.
“I wept for mine when he lay dead.

Let fall your tears, its right you should,

Come cry with me, ‘twill do you good.”

Of all who came with comfort nigh,

I liked her best who let me cry.

Author unknown