Little Christ, little Christ,
Sheltered there on Mary's breast,
All Thy child-like purity
Lightens life's obscurity,
So I thank Thee
For that ray of light confessed.
Sweet Thy mother, Baby Christ,
Sweet in woman's modesty;
But to such an one as me
I would choose to kneel to Thee,
To Thy young simplicity,
To Thy full divinity,
Little Christ.
Give me tears to keep me clean,
Give me joyfulness serene,
Steep me for futurity
In Thy white-souled purity.
For Thine innocence sufficed,
Little Christ, little Christ,
Vagrants like myself to bless,
So I thank Thee
For Thy perfect holiness,
Little Christ.
A Vision of a Day that is Past
The sky hung smooth o'er the line of hill
That shadowed the valley that seemed so still,
And the blackbird whistled his love notes shrill.
The church lay dreaming of God, and when
The bodies should rise from her graveyard pen
Where the high grass covered her poor dead men.
The water meadows shone rich with gold,
Gold that the buttercups had sold
To the nibbling sheep of the red ring-fold.
And even the river murmured rest
As the sun sank low in the tender west,
And the earth flowers slept on their mother's breast.