II. See! again! a woman hasting Through the twilight soft and gray; Laughing children run to meet her III. Look once more! a pilgrim weary As she asks, with plaintive query, "Can you show the homeward way? Lead me homeward: I am weary." Then a Presence stood to guide her, "Home!" she breathed, with restful sigh, To the Presence that did guide her. IV. Homeward still, the tiny maiden, W. H. Savage. INDEX OF FIRST LINES. Poems marked thus (*) have been printed only in part. After our child's untroubled breath A little fold of hands *All as God wills, who wisely heeds All that God wounds he constantly is healing Answer me, burning stars of night A snowflake falls from out the air above As tender mothers guiding baby steps. At eve it shall be light, the promise reads *A white dove out of heaven flew Beside a massive gateway built up in years gone by Blindfolded and alone I wait Brother, the angels say Buried to-day *Children are God's Apostles *Fear death?-to feel the fog in my throat. *I cannot, cannot say *I cannot make him dead I cannot think of them as dead *I do not come to weep above thy pall If one had watched a prisoner many a year *"If ye loved me," Jesus said I had a little daughter. I hear it singing, singing sweetly I lay me down to rest I like that ancient Saxon phrase . In schools of wisdom all the day was spent *In the Baron's hall of pride. . 161 . 177 . 119 160 It was a tender hand that drew my boy away . 190 *I will not mock tl.ee with the poor world's common . 155 Servant of God, well done! . She waited for the summons, lengthening days Sleep, tired ene, sleep Sometime, when all life's lessons have been learned Straight and still the baby lies Such beautiful, beautiful hands Take them, O death, and bear away The dead are like the stars by day *The face which duly as the sun The fragrance of the rose The little feet that never trod There is a Reaper whose name is Death There is no death! The stars go down There is no flock, however watched and tended. There's not an hour but from some sparkling beach They sat in peace in the sunshine Those we love truly never die Thou that art strong to comfort 136 169 PAGE To pass through life beloved as few are loved Until we meet again, that is the meaning We know not what it is, dear We must not doubt, or fear, or dread . . 200 . 197 . 124 . 127 |