"Yes, she is in heaven's glory,
But in heaven's own land, alas!
There are no butterflies nor flowers—
Nor meadows of velvet grass!"
"But mother, God's blessed angels
There, rejoicing sing to Him!"
Forth from the sunset's rosy fires
Now cometh the midnight dim.
Ah, the mother wants her baby—
That she watched from the window wide,
When 'mid butterflies and blossoms
She played in the meadow's pride!
MAIKOW.
AN EASTER GREETING
The lark at sunrise trills it high—
The greeting Christ is risen!
And through the wood the black-bird pipes
The greeting Christ is risen!
Beneath the eaves the swallows cry
The greeting Christ is risen!
Throughout the world man's heart proclaims
The greeting Christ is risen!
And echo answers from the grave
In truth, yes, He is risen!
MAIKOW.
AT EASTER
Drawing near the Easter Sunday
With the Easter-greeting kiss;
When I come, remember Dora—
Not alone we suffer this!
Then, as were it for the first time—
Kiss thou me and I kiss thee;
Thou with modest eyelids downcast,
I with but ill stifled glee!