IN some strange way God understands
Her dreaming lips were fondly pressed,
The playful touch of childish hands
Her wan cheek lingeringly caressed.
With joy she woke, but to her heart
A grief of loss the waking gave;
She rose to live her lonely part
A simple woman true and brave.
And all the day she softly sung
Low crooning airs that mothers sing,
For to her weary heart there clung
The peace that childish kisses bring.
