So light her step, so frank with all good-will.
Let her be child, or girl, or maid, or woman—
I know not what she is. Alone I know
She moves o'er earth like creature more than human,
Missioned from God to spread his peace below.
VI.
When, travel-worn, on thee I chance to muse,
Breeze-like the fragrance comes across my heart
Of spring-flowers breathing sweetness through their dews;
So blissful and so bountiful thou art.