But He will note who knoweth all,

And He thy plaint will heed.

O little sparrow, far and high

Thy soft notes God-ward go,

And I with thee send up my cry,

And both shall somewhere find reply,

God careth for us so.

 TO MOTHER

O mother, from thy home beyond the stars

Hast thou not known the yearning of thy child

For thy sweet love? Hast thou not heard her wild

And piteous moaning for thy soft caress?

Felt her heart's aching for the tenderness

And the low patience of thy loving voice?

Hast thou not seen her 'mid life's toils and jars,

Pant as a bird behind its prison bars,

For freedom to fly forth and be with thee?

And canst thou not, sweet mother, send reply?

Oh, thro' the depths of glory, thro' the sky,

[Pg 25]

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