Page:Poems Welby.djvu/131

And how at noon-tide I have often brought thee,
In thy young beauty, to thy father's side,
   With all a mother's pride.

And when for rest thou seek'st the rich man's dwelling,
Should he from his bright mansion bid thee flee,
   Speaking harsh things to thee,
Let not thy heart with dark despair be swelling,
For soft to thee will be the velvet sod,
   If thou wilt trust in God.

And each pale lily, o'er the waters stooping
From its pure alabaster vase will shed
   A gleam about thy head;
And the rich berries in red clusters drooping
From many a bended bough in this dark wood,
   Will be thy fragrant food.

For thou must wander by each low- voiced river,
And school thy timid heart to be alone
   When the night-winds make moan;
And, when the forest leaves above thee shiver,
To calmly lay thee 'neath their solemn shade,
   And not to be afraid.

For He, who, in his glory dwells above thee,
Who tempereth the wind to the shorn lamb,
   With a deep Sabbath calm