Once a Week (magazine)/Series 1/Volume 7/My little picture



I have sent you a little picture
Of a face you used to know,
And I ask you to guard and keep it
For the sake of years ago.

As a token of Peace and Friendship,
I have sent it across the sea,
To ask if, as I have forgiven,
You too have forgiven me.

Not to call up the love that is gone,
Or to bring back the sad dead past;
Or the blossoms of hope that faded
In the biting wintry blast.

Not to recall the tight grasp of hands
That told what lips could not speak;
Or the long last kiss that gave “Farewell,”
And branded it on the cheek.

Nor to tell of a weary, wasting pain,
The wish for a well-loved face,
The useless longing to fill once more
The heart’s cold vacant place.

The sobs o’er the love that passed away,
The cry of woe’s keen smart,
That echoed, unanswer’d and unheard,
Through the chambers of the heart.

But to tell of bygones forgotten,
And bid thee pardon the past,
And take from the hand I offer
Peace and friendship at the last.

It will look at you gently and kindly,
And bid you be happy again,
And tell you to bury the wretched years
Of our passion and our pain.

It will tell that though life may be weary,
There are bright days for us still,
If we live with a true and honest heart,
And a firm and upright will.

And through the dim coming future,
As the great years roll along,
It will whisper some sweet words of comfort,
And sing you a cheering song.

It will ask you to look far onward,
To the land where spirits meet,
To the calm for the weary heart-ache,
And the rest for weary feet.

Then take care of my little picture,
And do not cast it away;
Tis the face that you used to look at
And love in a bygone day.

T. D.