My Sister’s Heritage
By Mary S. Edgar
(In “The Survey.”)
Budding tree and singing bird,
Joy of springtime seen and heard;
All the wealth of all the year,
Scattered by the wayside here.
But oh, little sister of mine in the shadowy places,
Where the wheel turns and the small young fingers ply,
I cannot forget that this is yours, too, to inherit—
The open fields and the streams, and the clear blue sky.
Stirring sap and quickening sod—
Miracles revealing God:
Prophets of the fatherhood,
Speaking from the field and wood.
But oh, little sister of mine in the shadowy places,
Where shoulders droop, eyes dim, and cheeks grow wan,
I yearn for your hand, and a road that leads to the open,
To the commonwealth of the fields, ere the light be gone.