 | [Learning prayers, in] The book of the sonnet |  |
261
LEARNING PRAYERS.
The sweet pure mother, wearing through the dustHer heaven-white garment of fresh Christian love
Silent about her, while her patient trust
O'er cloudland sings—one sunlit bird above—
Through twilight's hushing gold bends sweet and lowly
Down on her little children, making prayers
Grow in their hearts, while their low voices slowly
Send little angels heavenward unawares:
So Nature, a sweet mother, o'er us bends,
Through this dim eve of an eternal day;
Whispers love-words, till gushing light ascends,—
Prayer's hidden fountain in the heart that lay;
And heaven's mild dew into our dream descends,
While, flame-like, close tired eyes, waiting morn's golden ray.
| [Learning prayers, in] The book of the sonnet | |