Beneath one roof two human forms behold,
A radiant child, with silky, golden hair,
And face like some sweet flow’r, so fresh and fair;
A faded woman, feeble, gray, and old,
With scanty locks, with fingers thin and cold,
And lined, worn face, all brown and shriveled-up--
The face of one who of affliction’s cup
Hath deeply drunk –a shore o’er which hath rolled
Life’s stormy billows, leaving bitter trace.
Say, which of these is fairer? Do you say,
“Without a doubt, she of the flower-face,
With happy laughter shouting at her play?”
The Angels, looking deeper, thus maintain:
“The other is the fairer of the twain.”
E. Dyke

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