Classic Poem

Must there be forfeit of such gift and grace
That we should hear this faint and feeble cry,
And see frail fingers searching helplessly
The frigid marble of the mother's face,
As though to claim a loved and lost embrace?
Is there no answer to the fierce, blank " Why? "
That springs unto our lips resentfully
Until they may not frame or prayer or praise?
Would life be fairer could we understand
The law immutable of sacrifice,
That we must lose to gain, must pay the toll
Even of death? If we could see God's hand
Perchance our forfeit were a petty price
Before the wonder that He shall unroll!