Outlawed felon and sinless child All find room in the Potter's Field.

There lies a Judas who sold his Lord, Here a Mary, His pity healed.

Who could know of the shame and sin Safely under the sod concealed?

Weary burdens of want and grief, Laid away in the Potter's Field.

Who could guess?--for as swift and light O'er it the feet of the seasons go; Summer hides it with grace of flowers, Winter spreads it with folds of snow.

Rains weep over the lonely mound, Sunlight lingers, and swift shades pa.s.s; Tender hands of the gentle wind Smooth the knots of the tangled gra.s.s.

What though hallowed by Death alone, Rest unbroken the sod doth yield; Peace is here, for His constant watch G.o.d doth set o'er the Potter's Field.

Left Out.

WELL he knew that his clothes were poor: He was common, he humbly thought; Child as he was, he could understand Why he was slighted and never sought.

Yet could he help it,--his mother gone,-- Help the weight of his father's shame?

Hardest sentence of childish law: Blaming innocence not to blame.

It was hard when the children played All together, to be left out,-- Stand aside, with a stinging sense That 'twas he that they laughed about.

Thoughtless children, they felt no wrong,-- Pushed him out of the ring at play.

No one heard how his voice was choked, No one cared when he stole away.

No one saw how he crept at last Through the gate and the gra.s.ses deep, Past the wall to a lonely grave Where his mother was laid asleep.

Could she feel in her narrow bed, Wee, cold hands, as they groped about-- Feel the tears that were dropped because Even her grave had left him out?

"Our Father."

I HAVE no part with all the great, proud world: It cares not how I live, nor when I die; But every lily smiling in the field, And every tiny sparrow darting by, Claims kinship with me, mortal though they be,-- The One who cares for them doth care for me.

A Madrigal.

WOODBINE.

THE wild bee clings to it Most fond and long.

The wild bird sings to it Its sweetest song.

The wild breeze brings to it A life more strong.

So all things lend to thee Some charm, some grace.

The world's a friend to thee, In love's embrace.

All hearts do bend to thee, In thy queen's place.

The Time o' Day.

IF I should look for the time o' day On the rose's dial red, I would think it was just the sunrise hour, From the flush of its petals spread.

And if I would tell by the lily-bell, I would think it was calm, white noon; And the violet's blue would tell by its hue Of the evening coming soon.

But when I would know by my lady's face, I am all perplexed the while; For it's always starlight by her eyes, And sunlight by her smile.

Trailing Arbutus.

THERE may be hearts that lie so deep 'Neath griefs and cares that weigh like drifted snow, That love seems chilled in endless sleep, And budding hopes may never dare to grow.

Yet under all, some memory Trails its arbutus flowers of tender thought,-- All buried in the snow maybe, Still with the sweetest fragrance fraught.

A Mood.

SOMETHING has made the world so changed, Something is lost from field and sky, And the earth and sun are sadly estranged, And the songs of Nature seemed turned to a cry.

Yet I heard my blithe little neighbor tell How fair is the spring to see.

Ah, well,-- Perhaps the change is in me.

Something has gone from your smile, sweetheart; Something I miss from your look, your tone.

Though you stand quite near, we are still apart, You may clasp me close, but I feel alone.

Yet over and over your love you tell, And as you say, it must be.

Ah, well,-- Perhaps the change is in me.

The Legend of the Pansies.

ONE night in Fairyland, when all the court Held carnival to welcome in the June, And to the wind-harp's music, flying feet Were dancing on the rose leaves night had strewn; The naughty Puck crept up the castle stair, And called the sleeping princes from their bed; And with their royal pages following, Away the tricksy little fairies sped.