THE ETERNAL CHILDREN
The sunset for their nursery-fire,
The Cross for candle-light,
Then, as the sunset-glamour
Stole from the hill,
Still grew each meadow-lark,
Every lamb still.
As the tranquil twilight
Deepen’d dim,
The last throstle finish’d
His last hymn.
As the still Stars slid out
To the still sky,
Only the Sea sang on
Low lullaby;
The while, like a careful nurse,
All her babes in bed,
With calm, even, strong hand
She swept smooth the printed sand,
Clear’d away the finger’d treasures,
And scatter’d new instead
(Save favourites, tuck’d in crack or cleft—
Those, she left);
Pour’d into the rock-pools
Freshness and food,
Brought supper to the seaweed,
And made all good.
While, through the valley,
In the dusk hid,
The Dews and the Night-wind
Like labour did,
And into the lulled Green-Things
Freshness slid.
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