And learn with the gentle Mary,
At the Saviour's feet to stay,
And to choose that better portion
Which shall never be taken away.
Ah! lovely and thrice beloved,
Sitting at Jesus' feet,
In the shady walks of Bethany,
And the summer twilight sweet,—
With the thrilling palms and the olives,
Listening overhead,
To that wonderful voice whose music
Had power to waken the dead!
Even thus through life's grave-shadowed valleys,
We may walk with that Heavenly Friend,
With a child's loving faith in His promise
To be with us unto the end.
So I ask for my Mary, not grandeur,
Nor the wealth, nor the fame of the day,
But that which the world cannot give her,
The peace which it takes not away.
THE WOODS IN JUNE.
In the sleep-haunted gloom
Born of the slumbrous twilight in these shades,
These vast and venerable collonades,
I welcome thee, dear June!
And while with head reclined,
And limbs aweary with my woodland walk,
I listen to the low melodious talk
Of leaves and singing wind,
The merry roundelay
Of the swart ploughman, sowing summer grain,
And tinkling sheep-bell on the distant plain,
And pastures far away,
Come with a soft refrain,
Like a faint echo from the outer world,
While Peace sits by me with her white wings furled,
Within my green domain.