Hid in the cool tree;     

       And all the gold day-time,     

       From morning till even,     

       Earth's little strange children     

       Play round her knee.     

  

       Earth's lost little children     

       She binds to her bosom,     

       Each wind-gathered blossom,     

       Till mothers are free     

       To steal to God's Garden     

       And name them and loose them—     

       In Eden's green garden,     

       'Neath Mary's tree.     

   

  

       A BRAVE LIFE     

       The arid loneliness of life he knew,     

       The doubtful darkness of the starless night,     

       And fear lest he should never see the sight     

 Prev. P 35/142 next