80
RECALL.
My cares this morning when I rose
Seemed mountainous. I had no joy
In what the long hours might disclose—
The tasks that should my powers employ.
Within my heart lurked gnawing pain,
Hard duty stared me in the face—
How much of life we live in vain,
How dull the round and commonplace!
But in my garden where I stepped
I saw the flowering grasses fair,
Feathery, delicate, wind-swept,
Swaying in simple beauty there:
And presently a little child.
Whose wondering face was like a shrine,
Lifted untroubled eyes and smiled
With sudden happiness to mine.
