I BRING HER A FLOWER

Sweet faith Such looks of quiet hath That those on whom she’s smiled Lie down to sleep as easy as a child. No night, However dark, can fright Them, no, nor day To come, however bleak and fell, dismay. But sound Sleep they in prison-bound As when at liberty. And if they wake, they wake in charity; Like her, Who rousing at the jar Of weary foot in the rain Pitied the wakeful sentry for his pain.