Sweet Rest hath come, great, wingèd, heaven-born,

To lead thee to thy home with angels' hands.

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 THE SHADOW

THE shadow of your threshold is so full

T

Of meaning, that the stranger knows what home

Is yours, if peace dwell here, or strife, or restless

Unsatisfied ambition. As the tree's

Deep shadow meaneth rest and comfort, or

Is poison, sleep eternal, such the house

That is a home's sweet shadow or a dark

Abode of sin, of lurking lie and danger.

The shadow of your life, that is so small

In bright midday and summer's burning sun,

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Begins to lengthen when your evening comes,

And shows the beauty of the tree in outline,

Its graceful forms, its harmony and power;

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