 | Poems |  |
FLOWERS.
Her little prayer at night she said,
Then looked with wistful eyes,
Half tenderly and half afraid,
Up to the starry skies.
Then looked with wistful eyes,
Half tenderly and half afraid,
Up to the starry skies.
For daily bread, ne'er sought in vain,
She asked the heavenly powers.
“P'ease, God!” she whispered low again,
“Div' me my daily f'owers!”
She asked the heavenly powers.
“P'ease, God!” she whispered low again,
“Div' me my daily f'owers!”
Her daily flowers, her baby days,
In one bright garden flew;
And like a flower in all her ways,
The dimpled creature grew.
In one bright garden flew;
And like a flower in all her ways,
The dimpled creature grew.
As fair and sweet a tiny maid
As any new-born blossom
That dawn and dew's soft stress persuade
From mother earth's broad bosom.
As any new-born blossom
That dawn and dew's soft stress persuade
From mother earth's broad bosom.
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And flowers like kin the darling loved;
She bore the fragrant band,
Where'er she played, where'er she roved,
In apron or in hand.
She bore the fragrant band,
Where'er she played, where'er she roved,
In apron or in hand.
And while she prayed, with look askance
As if she asked a treasure
Too great for God to give perchance
For just her baby pleasure,
As if she asked a treasure
Too great for God to give perchance
For just her baby pleasure,
I echoed in my heart her prayer,
Remembering earth's sad hours,
And weary weight of sin and care,
“Give us our daily flowers!
Remembering earth's sad hours,
And weary weight of sin and care,
“Give us our daily flowers!
“The kindly word, the smile serene,
The greeting of good-morrow,
The brotherhood in speech and mien,
That soothes our common sorrow.
The greeting of good-morrow,
The brotherhood in speech and mien,
That soothes our common sorrow.
“These human blossoms of the heart
Give to our daily needing!
Dear Lord! are not these too a part
Of thine immortal feeding?”
Give to our daily needing!
Dear Lord! are not these too a part
Of thine immortal feeding?”
And back the sudden answer fell:
“Whate'er my hand hath given
My constant love and care to tell,
Is truly bread from heaven.”
“Whate'er my hand hath given
My constant love and care to tell,
Is truly bread from heaven.”
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