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66
THE LIKENESS
Elizabeth is floating on the tide of sleep
That drifts her onward to the Holy Day
Of Him whose star was bright above the sheep.
That drifts her onward to the Holy Day
Of Him whose star was bright above the sheep.
Elizabeth is stirring. Will the Old Man dare
To put his sack of toys upon the floor
And kiss a trail of wonder-woven hair?
To put his sack of toys upon the floor
And kiss a trail of wonder-woven hair?
Elizabeth, the pillow and the trail are wet.
The Old Man loved your Mother; and he shed
Those tears for one too precious to forget.
The Old Man loved your Mother; and he shed
Those tears for one too precious to forget.
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