I was scrolling through some poetry while my pork chops were cooking this evening and came across this lovely poem I’d never read. It struck me with its poignancy, so I decided to share it with you today.
By Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch
Small is my secret–let it pass– Small in your life the share I had, Who sat beside you in the class, Awed by the bright superior lad: Whom yet with hot and eager face I prompted when he missed his place.
For you the call came swift and soon: But sometimes in your holidays You meet me trudging home at noon To dinner through the dusty ways, And recognized, and with a nod Passed on, but never guessed–thank God!
Truly our ways were separate. I bent myself to hoe and drill,
Yea, with an honest man to mate, Fulfilling God Almighty’s will; And bore him children. But my prayers Were yours–and, only after, theirs.
While you–still loftier, more remote, You sprang from stair to stair of fame, And you’ve a riband on your coat, And you’ve a title to your name; But have you yet a star to shine Above your bed, as I o’er mine?
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