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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=37955" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Which Shall It Be</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">WHICH shall it be? Which shall it be?<br>I look'd at John—John look'd at me<br>(Dear, patient John, who loves me yet<br>As well as though my locks were jet);<br>And when I found that I must speak,<br>My voice seem'd strangely low and weak:<br>"Tell me again what Robert said?"<br>And then I, listening, bent my head.<br>"This is his letter:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">   "'I will give<br>A house and land while you shall live,<br>If, in return, from out your seven,<br>One child to me for aye is given.'"<br>I look'd at John's old garments worn,<br>I thought of all that John had borne<br>Of poverty, and work, and care,<br>Which I, though willing, could not share;<br>I thought of seven mouths to feed,<br>Of seven little children's need,<br>And then of this.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">   "Come, John," said I,<br>"We'll choose among them as they lie<br>Asleep"; so, walking hand in hand,<br>Dear John and I survey'd our band.<br>First to the cradle lightly stepp'd,<br>Where Lilian the baby slept,<br>A glory 'gainst the pillow white.<br>Softly the father stooped to lay<br>His rough hand down in loving way,<br>When dream or whisper made her stir,<br>And huskily he said: "Not her!"</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We stopped beside the trundle-bed<br>And one long ray of lamp-light shed<br>Athwart the boyish faces there,<br>In sleep so pitiful and fair;<br>I saw on Jamie's rough, red cheek,<br>A tear undried. Ere John could speak,<br>"He's but a baby, too," said I,<br>And kissed him as we hurried by.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Pale, patient Robbie's angel face<br>Still in his sleep bore suffering's trace;<br>"No, for a thousand crowns, not him,"<br>He whispered, while our eyes were dim.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poor Dick! bad Dick! our wayward son,<br>Turbulent, reckless, idle one—<br>Could he be spared? "Nay, He who gave,<br>Bade us befriend him to the grave;<br>Only a mother's heart can be<br>Patient enough for such as he;<br>And so," said John, "I would not dare<br>To send him from her bedside prayer."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then stole we softly up above<br>And knelt by Mary, child of love.<br>"Perhaps for her 'twould better be,"<br>I said to John, Quite silently<br>He lifted up a curl that lay<br>Across her cheek in willful way,<br>And shook his head, "Nay, love, not thee,"<br>The while my heart beat audibly.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Only one more, our eldest lad,<br>Trusty and truthful, good and glad—<br>So like his father. "No, John, no—<br>I can not, will not let him go."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And so we wrote in courteous way,<br>We could not drive one child away,<br>And afterward, toil lighter seemed,<br>Thinking of that of which we dreamed;<br>Happy, in truth, that not one face<br>We missed from its accustomed place;<br>Thankful to work for all the seven,<br>Trusting the rest to One in heaven!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ethel+Lynn+Beers">Ethel Lynn Beers</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=37955" data-title="Which Shall It Be de Ethel Lynn Beers" data-description="WHICH shall it be? Which shall it be?/I look'd at John—John look'd at me/(Dear, patient John, who loves me yet/As well as though my locks were jet);/And when I found that I must speak,/My voice seem'd strangely low and weak:/"Tell me again what ..."></div>
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