OCR Text |
Show .My Grace. " (Lv A. M. Rr.ekton.) A saeak of captive light thai sieeps In an ancient h ill. And faintly smiies. and w aires, ai.d creeps From tlu rustling poplar bough 'that weeps Over the Ivied wail A far-off sh'iger down the stre.r Children at play The hist wan primrose, brave and SWee!, ' ' ' In the frozen l.e-.lgejv. n- ai our feet On a white s day Tic- song of a li'i-k. o"er-to-,viivi he.ivei. In ;: raiir of iight Thf. illage etn fe-.v tolling seven. Aii'i. sweet ' the sent e of siii forgiven. for-given. The falling nigh; A word that st 'ms to j-attnl an 1 rim: Thi-.ugh bygone yej.rs: And, playing on some h.hb n string. Se musically murium ing- The nameless icais A book, ir v.h'.-'i some hum-in oul. Careless .perchance, . Cpeus t iu. ions ci:ib!;:'onei" seviil! Of all liis life, asking no ;r'.j For that dear glance; Tin innixent laugh of boy or maid In the. marke( kov. And all fair th tigs that haw obeyed Tbeir sending forth, for 11h?o lie said My daily g,'ce! Frfm The Saturday Review, London |