An untitled poem
Back to poems today, this one, untitled and unattributed found among my grandmother’s papers:
She thought when night had finally ended day.
Dear Lord tonight I am too tired to pray
And wearily she closed her eyes in sleep.
Slipping far into the shadows deep.
Up in Heaven the dear Lord heard and smiled
Today she soothed a little crying child.
She stopped her work to take old Ella Koop
A fragrant warming bowl of her good soup.
Her house was orderly, her garden tended
Her children fed, their clothes all clean and mended.
Her husband home from work found happiness
And quiet peace in her deep gentleness.
The dear Lord smiled again
Too tired to pray,
Her hands have offered Prayer of love all day.
Edit: I’ve done some searching, which I should have done beforehand, I suppose. It would appear that this poem is entitled Too Tired To Pray and was written by Jane Coffin. There are some quotation marks in the original which really make a bit more sense of the poem, but I’ve left it as my grandmother typed it up.


