 | The complete poetical writings of J. G. Holland |  |
XVI.
When the long parley found a close,
And, clean and kempt, the little oaf—
Disburdened of her wants and woes,
And loaded with her wheaten loaf—
Went forth to minister to those
And, clean and kempt, the little oaf—
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And loaded with her wheaten loaf—
Went forth to minister to those
Who sent her on her bitter quest,
The bride stood smiling at her door,
And in her happiness confessed
That she had found a friend; nay, more—
Had entertained a heavenly guest.
The bride stood smiling at her door,
And in her happiness confessed
That she had found a friend; nay, more—
Had entertained a heavenly guest.
And as she watched her down the street,
Her brow grown bright with sunny thought,
Her heart o'erfilled with something sweet,
She knew the vagrant child had brought
The blessing of the Paraclete.
Her brow grown bright with sunny thought,
Her heart o'erfilled with something sweet,
She knew the vagrant child had brought
The blessing of the Paraclete.
She turned from out the blazing noon,
And sought her chamber's quiet shade,
Like one who had received a boon
She might not show, but which essayed
Expression in a happy croon.
And sought her chamber's quiet shade,
Like one who had received a boon
She might not show, but which essayed
Expression in a happy croon.
And then, outleaping from the mesh
Of Memory's net, like bird or bee,
There thrilled her spirit and her flesh
This old half-song, half-rhapsody,
That sang, or said itself, afresh:
Of Memory's net, like bird or bee,
There thrilled her spirit and her flesh
This old half-song, half-rhapsody,
That sang, or said itself, afresh:
“Poor little wafer of silver!
More precious to me than its cost!
It was worn of both image and legend,
But priceless because it was lost.
My chamber I carefully swept;
I hunted, and wondered, and wept;
And I found it at last with a cry:
Oh, dear little treasure! said I;
And I washed it with tears all the day:
Then I kissed it, and put it away.
More precious to me than its cost!
It was worn of both image and legend,
But priceless because it was lost.
My chamber I carefully swept;
I hunted, and wondered, and wept;
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Oh, dear little treasure! said I;
And I washed it with tears all the day:
Then I kissed it, and put it away.
“Poor little lamb of the sheepfold!
Unlovely and feeble it grew;
But it wandered away to the mountains,
And was fairer the further it flew.
I followed with hurrying feet
At the call of its pitiful bleat,
And precious, with wonderful charms,
I caught it at last in my arms,
And bore it far back to its keep,
And kissed it and put it to sleep.
Unlovely and feeble it grew;
But it wandered away to the mountains,
And was fairer the further it flew.
I followed with hurrying feet
At the call of its pitiful bleat,
And precious, with wonderful charms,
I caught it at last in my arms,
And bore it far back to its keep,
And kissed it and put it to sleep.
“Poor little vagrant from Heaven!
It wandered away from the fold,
And its weakness and danger endowed it
With value more precious than gold.
Oh, happy the day when it came,
And my heart learned its beautiful name!
Oh, happy the hour when I fed
This waif of the angels with bread!
And the lamb that the Shepherd had missed
Was sheltered and nourished and kissed!”
It wandered away from the fold,
And its weakness and danger endowed it
With value more precious than gold.
Oh, happy the day when it came,
And my heart learned its beautiful name!
Oh, happy the hour when I fed
This waif of the angels with bread!
And the lamb that the Shepherd had missed
Was sheltered and nourished and kissed!”
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