PHOCAS
Unto the flowers he came, and there
Paced out with equal tread,
And careful glance this way and that
(As meting yet another plat),
Six feet of earth among his flowers.
Then, looking up, he said:
“Sons, parents, friends, yea, how much more
Had I in thee, my God!
Yet, knowing that we are but dust,
And earth a little love we must,
All-pitying! lo, what fellowship
Thou brought’st me from the sod!
“Children, more every day, to tend,
Mothers, to furnish food,
Brethren, to help me praise Thee—nay
But Cherubim in coats of clay,
To guide my soul, and lead it thro’
Low gateways unto good.
“Oh, I have seen fair come of foul,
And cleanness crown the mould—
I have watch’d patience mastering ill
And Death requickening Life—until
I learn’d that in a garden yet
God walketh as of old.
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