To meet him coming; theirs through every year And laughing eyes and laughing voices fill Their home with gladness. She, when all are still, In sleep how beautiful! He, when the sky When, gathering round his bed, they climb to share Up to the hill-top leads their little feet; Or to the echo near the Abbot's tree, That gave him back his words of pleasantry- Down a green alley, or a squirrel then Climb the gnarled oak, and look and climb again, If but a moth flit by, an acorn fall, He turns their thoughts to Him who made them all; These with unequal footsteps following fast, These clinging by his cloak, unwilling to be last. And the swart seaman, sailing far below, What then a Father's feelings? Joy and Fear Fearful of wrong, in awe of whom he loves! |