Thus whilst they were listening, centuries ago,     

       Solemn feet drew nigh them, treading very slow;     

       Solemn hands so touched them that they caused to     

       grow     

       Something that was All-God, centuries ago.     

  

       Then they left God's Garden, centuries ago.     

       Scarcely dared to question, never hoped to know,     

       Who it was that touched them, causing thus to     

       grow     

       That small child, so like them—centuries ago.     

   

  

       HIS MOTHER     

       I bore him in my breast—     

       Yes, it was I.     

       My mother's hands impressed     

       Stars of the sky     

       On to his infant sight,     

 Prev. P 30/142 next