OLD FASHIONED EASTER
Every Easter Sunday, at the bottom of my bed,
Something new, nice and new, for me to wear,
Either shoes, clothes or a pretty hat for my head.
Sometimes more than one thing would be there.
We had no Easter bunny with cotton tail and all,
May be a bar of chocolate, a painted egg or two,
But a set of new spring clothes to last till fall,
To wear them on Sundays, they’d last the time through.
Easter Sunday morning the church was always full,
Whether to show off clothes or worship I never knew,
I’d look around see dresses of silk, or coats of wool,
Some had old clothes on although they were very few.
One year there were no clothes at the bottom of my bed,
My parents said not a word, my young heart was sad,
We all went off to church and a quiet prayer I said
That no one would notice that new clothes I hadn’t had.
I saw a girl with new clothes that she’d never had before
She looked so happy, all smiles, there were tears in each eye
And love on her face, then the vicar smiled at me at the door,
And thanked me, for giving your clothes to someone doing to die.
I told him it was nothing, and he hugged me as he cried,
The folks are poor and long to clothe the girl in Sunday best.
But money was taken for food and rent, but, today he sighed,
She had new clothes, a thing she wanted before being laid to rest.
She died before next Easter and my clothes she sweetly wore
Lying with a smile on her face, in the dress and pink and white.
I am glad I did not know the pain in silence that she always bore
But it was faded from her face, for though dead, was filled with light.
I am glad my parents gave my dress to that suffering, dying child.
For if for only a new months it gave joy to her hurting heart,
But if they would have asked I would to the child so mild
Given more than my new dress, then I’d have done my part.
M Ann Margetson © April 11, 2000
Poems/2000 Easter