STRANGE INCENSE

A tiny, tangled head bent down Within a city's gutter— A laughing face of tan and brown Amid the rubbish of the town. Mud-pies and broken glass all day Bring fairyland from far away To thee, sweet innocence, at play. But mud-pies blacken; glass gives pain, And laughing eyes are turned to gain 'Mid cold and hunger, snow and rain. God shield thee, tangled head bent down Within a city's gutter! Poor lily of the noisome town! Strange incense, shed o'er stranger ground!