 | An idyl of work |  |
“How lovely! Were they dropped from heaven?” asked Ruth;
For in her spasm of grief she heard no sound
Of Eleanor's light footfall, fading out
Soft as it entered. 'T was as if a breeze
Brought in the blossoms.
“I am sure God writes
In earthly hieroglyphics,” Esther said,
“Some of his plainest gospels. Love alone,
Pure love, could paint in colors such as these.
Believe it! He cares more for your soul's health
Than any plant's.”
Ruth's whispered prayer rose: “Thou
Who lovest thy children, if a drop of dew,
A sunbeam yet can reach me, bid me live!”
For in her spasm of grief she heard no sound
46
Soft as it entered. 'T was as if a breeze
Brought in the blossoms.
“I am sure God writes
In earthly hieroglyphics,” Esther said,
“Some of his plainest gospels. Love alone,
Pure love, could paint in colors such as these.
Believe it! He cares more for your soul's health
Than any plant's.”
Ruth's whispered prayer rose: “Thou
Who lovest thy children, if a drop of dew,
A sunbeam yet can reach me, bid me live!”
| An idyl of work | |