Empty Are The Mother’s Arms
Alfred Castner King
Ah, empty are the mother’s arms Which clasp a vanished form; A darling spared from life’s alarms, And safe from earthly storm. In absent reverie, she hears That voice, nor can forget; The fond illusion disappears,— Her arms are empty, yet.
![[Poetry X Logo]](http://poetryx.com/images/poetryXLogo.gif)
