See how the level rays
Through the white garments pour
Of the holy child, who stands,
With bending brow, to implore
Grace on the toilers' store;
O, see those sinless hands!
Behold, the Christ-child prays!
Wait, wait, ye lingering rays,
Stand still, O Earth and Sun,
Draw near, thou Soul of God—
This is the suffering one!
Already the way is begun
The piercèd Savior trod;
And now the Christ-child prays,
The holy Christ-child prays.
A CHILD
Her voice was like the song of birds;
Her eyes were like the stars;
Her little waving hands were like
Bird's wings that beat the bars.
And when those waving hands were still,—
Her soul had fled away,—
The music faded from the air,
The color from the day.
TWO VALLEYS
Yes, 't is a glorious sight,
This valley, that mountain hight.
The river plunges and roars
Like the loud sea on its shores
