Give me your left hand, dear;
Let me read its lines for you,
So daintly cut and clear,
On its palm of shell-pink hue.
Sensitive finger tips —
The fennel and rue of pain
Will touch your rosy lips,
As they bend life’s draught to drain.
Tender and tell-tale lines —
Here passion and truth have met;
Brave is the soul that shines,
Its courage will conquer yet.
Life-line and heart-line touch —
Love will be all in all;
The brain will yield too much
To affection’s eager call.
Here hope with tireless wings,
Gives courage to brave the worst
That disappointment brings,
To baffle life’s restless thirst.
Give me your right hand, dear;
Let me see if the germs were true;
Is there fruit and harvest here
In life’s field as tilled by you?
A thriftless worker sometimes;
Here and there a line left out,
A break in the silver chimes,
Faith lost in the grasp of doubt.
But some lines have worked their will,
O tender and true of heart,
No need of diviner’s skill,
For yours is the better part!
Self has been set aside,
Love working with fate’s decree,
Has wrapped its conquered pride
In the mantle of charity.
Sweetheart! your tender hands
Are full of life’s sweetest lore,
Happy the heart that understands
And holds them forevermore.
No need the lines to scan;
In their tender strength I see,
All that to yearning heart of man
A woman’s heart can be.
September 8th, 1889.
From: Lawson, Mrs. William (M.J.K.L.), Frankincense and Myrrh: Selections from the Poems of the Late Mrs. William Lawson, (M.J.K.L.), 1893, Morton & Co: Halifax, pp.149-150.
(https://archive.org/stream/frankincensemyrr00lawsrich#page/148/mode/2up)
Date: 1889
By: Mary Jane Katzmann Lawson (1828-1890)
From Troubles of The World 