Grave were the eyes above, and sad;
The face with pain was lined,
And the piercéd hands no sceptre had;
Both brows a crown did bind.
But the earthly King was crowned with gold—
The Christ with thorns entwined.
Slowly the young King homeward rode
In awe and wondering;
He had looked that day on the face of God,
And learned that for a king
The lordliest crown his brows can bear
Is the crown of suffering.
A SPARROW IN CHURCH
Thou, Who hast said no sparrow e'er shall fall
Without Thy knowledge, lend me now Thine aid.
I cry to Thee, O mighty Lord of all,
Thy little living creature, sore afraid.
All my short life these fluttering wings have known
Only the freedom of Thy sun and rain,
And now they beat against these walls of stone—
Lord of the sparrows, shall they beat in vain?
The terrors of Thine House encompass me,
Upon Thine altar I myself have laid;
Hearken, O Lord, Thy sparrow calls to Thee,
Thy little living creature, sore afraid.
SEA-GULLS
Where the dark green hollows lift
Into crests of snow,
Wheeling, flashing, floating by,
White against the stormy sky,
With exultant call and cry
Swift the sea-gulls go.