Classmates
The short brown curls had fallen
Shielding the face from view,
And nobody knew that angry tears
Were filling those eyes of blue.
A teasing word, a sharp retort,
Which cut like a whip-lash keen,
And now her friend of a whole long year
Was “cruel, and horrid and mean”.
The open book before her
Was damp with the limpid flow
For tears come easily in youth
With every new-born woe.
The chattering girls grow silent;
The Master is coming in;
She must raise her head and wipe her eyes,
For lessons will soon begin.