 | English Roses |  |
ANGEL WINGS.
If I give Him all my pretty things,
Heaps of little toys and treasures
And these foolish baby pleasures,
Will He fasten on the angel wings?
For I dream at dark of flying,
Though by day it's useless trying
And it only ends in crying—
But I want so the bright angel wings.
Heaps of little toys and treasures
And these foolish baby pleasures,
Will He fasten on the angel wings?
For I dream at dark of flying,
Though by day it's useless trying
And it only ends in crying—
But I want so the bright angel wings.
If I bring dear Father our gray Poll
Or the ball of crimson leather,
Might he not allow one feather—
If I added too my Christmas doll?
Surely for a piece of candy,
With the kitten white and sandy
And beribboned like a dandy,
He would do this—with my Christmas doll?
Or the ball of crimson leather,
Might he not allow one feather—
If I added too my Christmas doll?
Surely for a piece of candy,
With the kitten white and sandy
And beribboned like a dandy,
He would do this—with my Christmas doll?
Once I took no sugar in my cup,
And was quite two minutes praying
Down upon my knees, and saying
What nice treats I really could give up;
If he would, ere I got older,
Not believe me rude or bolder
Than was right, and let my shoulder
Blossom out—what would I not give up?
And was quite two minutes praying
Down upon my knees, and saying
What nice treats I really could give up;
If he would, ere I got older,
Not believe me rude or bolder
Than was right, and let my shoulder
Blossom out—what would I not give up?
He loves children, held them in His hand
And bestowed on them a blessing
Sweeter than the best caressing—
But I am not sure He understands;
Though He said no jot or tittle
Was unseen, we are so little
And of texture weak and brittle,
That I doubt He always understands.
And bestowed on them a blessing
Sweeter than the best caressing—
But I am not sure He understands;
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Was unseen, we are so little
And of texture weak and brittle,
That I doubt He always understands.
If I knew where angel wings were kept,
In what quiet corner hidden,
Though I should be sorely chidden
I would take the smallest while He slept;
And among those many shining
Plumes of grace and glory twining,
Far beyond all earth's refining—
He would never miss them, while He slept.
In what quiet corner hidden,
Though I should be sorely chidden
I would take the smallest while He slept;
And among those many shining
Plumes of grace and glory twining,
Far beyond all earth's refining—
He would never miss them, while He slept.
If I offer all that is my own
With my brother's who can spare it
And will sometimes even share it,
Then I might awake and find me flown;
And perhaps my tears to smiling
Yet may turn from ways of wiling
And discover games beguiling,
When on wings within me I have flown.
With my brother's who can spare it
And will sometimes even share it,
Then I might awake and find me flown;
And perhaps my tears to smiling
Yet may turn from ways of wiling
And discover games beguiling,
When on wings within me I have flown.
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