My Beth

Do you guys remember the tragic, tragic death of Beth March in Louisa May Alcottt’s Little women. I actually never finished reading the book (like I do) but I watched the BBC production that was so, so, good.

I rarely ever watch a film twice but I’m positive I watched the three-part series five times over.

I also loved the 2019 movie.

It was a masterpiece, but there is just something so charming and magical about the series maybe because I watched it before I watched the movie?

I’m bringing this up because I happen to be leaving home soon to go back to school and the thought of leaving my sisters and my parents, after these 5 months of quarantine, is weighing on me.

And so I thought to commemorate this sad event, I would share a poem that Jo March wrote to her sister Beth.

Here, Beth had died after being sick for so long. It is not the same situation as mine, but I feel that it carries a similar sentiment.

I hope you enjoy.

MY BETH – excerpt from LITTLE WOMEN by Louisa May Alcott

Sitting patient in the shadow
Till the blessed light shall come,
A serene and saintly presence
Sanctifies our troubled home.
Earthly joys and hopes and sorrows
Break like ripples on the strand
Of the deep and solemn river
Where her willing feet now stand.

O my sister, passing from me,
Out of human care and strife,
Leave me, as a gift, those virtues
Which have beautified your life.
Dear, bequeath me that great patience
Which has power to sustain
A cheerful, uncomplaining spirit
In its prison–house of pain.

Give me, for I need it sorely,
Of that courage, wise and sweet,
Which has made the path of duty
Green beneath your willing feet.
Give me that unselfish nature,
That with charity devine
Can pardon wrong for love’s dear sake––
Meek heart, forgive me mine!

Thus our parting daily loseth
Something of its bitter pain,
And while learning this hard lesson,
My great loss becomes my gain.
For the touch of grief will render
My wild nature more serene,
Give to life new aspirations,
A new trust in the unseen.

Henceforth, safe across the river,
I shall see forever more
A beloved, household spirit
Waiting for me on the shore.
Hope and faith, born of my sorrow,
Guardian angels shall become,
And the sister gone before me
By their hands shall lead me home.

#10.