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<h2> The Oldest Drama </h2>
<p><i>"It fell on a day, that he went out to his father to the reapers.<br/>
And he said unto his father, My head, my head. And he said to a lad,<br/>
Carry him to his mother. And . . . he sat on her knees till noon,<br/>
and then died. And she went up, and laid him on the bed. . . .<br/>
And shut the door upon him and went out."</i><br/></p>
<p>Immortal story that no mother's heart<br/>
Ev'n yet can read, nor feel the biting pain<br/>
That rent her soul! Immortal not by art<br/>
Which makes a long past sorrow sting again<br/>
<br/>
Like grief of yesterday: but since it said<br/>
In simplest word the truth which all may see,<br/>
Where any mother sobs above her dead<br/>
And plays anew the silent tragedy.<br/></p>
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