"Yestreen their hoods were close
About their faces tight,
But ere the sun was up, I saw
That God had come last night.
"O Sir, to see them then!
The bush was all aflame!—
O yes, they're glory-roses, Sir,
That is their holy name.
"Only a penny, Sir!"—
Heaven seemed across the way!
I took the red, red beauties home—
Roses to me for aye!
For aye, that radiant voice
As if from heaven it came—
"O yes, they're glory-roses, Sir,
That is their holy name!"
THE WIND.
he lithe wind races and sings
Over the grasses and wheat—
See the emerald floor as it springs
To the touch of invisible feet!
Ah, later, the fir and the pine
Shall stoop to its weightier tread,
As it tramps the thundering brine
Till it shudders and whitens in dread!