As when beheld with childhood's eyes of strength,
And stirred my soul with impulses divine.
My heart opened its depths—glad tears and sad
Mingled upon my cheek, which forty years'
Strange winds had fanned and heat and cold embrowned.
God's hand is nearer than we think—a touch
Suffices to restore the dead; a word
Becomes a wonder of creative power.
The little sparrows in their rustic speech
Talking a tongue I knew—this message brought