"Because it is the custom, Lord, of men To keep their birthdays gladly, and with gifts Grant me a blessing from your blesséd stores." And from the cloudy rose and amber drifts About the Throne, God answered: "It is yours." 

 Then sprang the glad Saint earthwards; at his feet Were little golden flames, and all his hair Was blown about his head like tongues of fire, And like a star he burned through the dark air, And came, and stood by farm and shed and byre 

 Before the earliest grey was in the East, Or the first smoke above the chimney-stack From earliest-rising housewife, yet the cheep And twitter of birds did gladly welcome back Him who such love for earth in heaven could keep, 

 And who on earth such love had had for men And bird and beast, and all that lived and grew: The sparrows in the eaves remembered him And chirrupped in the gables, while the dew Was dark still, and the day below the rim. 

 He stood there, in the village of his life Ere he won heaven, and the breath of cows Came as a benediction, and the smell Of rain-sweet copses, and, where cattle browse, Long grass, and running water in the dell. 

 And his heart opened with the love he had For the dear toil-worn dwelling-place of men; To hear the sheep crop, see the glimmering grey Lighten the waiting windows once again, And garden roses opening to the day. 

 Not otherwise was Eden once—he thought— And by God's blessing it may be anew: And so put forth the power God had lent And took away all labour, and he drew Heaven to earth, till earth and heaven were blent. 

 Time ceased to be; and yet the sun and shade Shifted to make new beauty with the hours, And the ripe earth, unlaboured, gave her yields, No pain there was, no age, and all the flowers Unwitheringly lovely filled the fields. 

 And all day long the birds in ecstasy Sang without shadow of hawk or thought of death, And the saint happily went about the ways Filling each home with plenty—his very breath Was like a little thrilling note of praise. 

 When all was done he stepped back, childish-wise, To see and love his handiwork, and then Came a sharp pain, and pierced him through and through; He had wrought lovingly for the days of men, But the heart of men his love could not renew: 

 The weary heart, the ever-questioning, The loving, lacking, lonely, 

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