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 | The poems of Trumbull Stickney |  |
[XIV
If with my life I lifted from thy head]
If with my life I lifted from thy headEver so little a while thy crown of thorn,
And thou not sadly in thy hair hast worn
These daisies of my trembling spirit bred;
If, while I huddled back thy dreadful dead,
Thou 'st happier listened to the birds at morn,
I render sacred thanks to have been born,
O my Madonna, dear and hallowèd.
'T is in my soul like midnight and high tide ...
| The poems of Trumbull Stickney | |