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CRUMBS
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


126

CRUMBS

A PARABLE

Only the crumbs, Lord,—but she finds them sweet!
Ah, not for her was the fair table spread
With viands rare, rich fruits, and wheaten bread!
But when scant crumbs fall at the children's feet,
May she not stoop to gather them and eat?
She craves no wine, nor roses white and red,
Round her lone board their fragrant breath to shed;
Only for crumbs, dear Lord, doth she entreat!
For even crumbs may save a soul alive
And keep a heart from starving. Thou dost know,
Surely Thou knowest, Thou who didst create.
Never on heavenly manna may she thrive
Gathered each morning while the dawn-winds blow—
Give her but crumbs in lieu of Love's estate!