[5]

 

A Blessing for the BlessedToC

ToC

 

When the sun has left the hill-top,

And the daisy-fringe is furled,

When the birds from wood and meadow

In their hidden nests are curled,

Then I think of all the babies

That are sleeping in the world....

There are babies in the high lands

And babies in the low,

There are pale ones wrapped in furry skins

On the margin of the snow,

And brown ones naked in the isles,

Where all the spices grow.

And some are in the palace

[6]

On a white and downy bed,

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