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STRANGERS.
[Margaret.]
I DO not know your name, dear,
I do not know your rank,
And do not care for either ;
But heartily I thank
The chance, or fate, that made you
Go wandering that way,
The chance, or fate, that led you
To cross my path that day.
For I was drifting, drifting
Adown a grassy slope ;
A spell was laid upon me
With which I could not cope.
The air was faint with roses,
The sea lay like a mist,
The flowers beyond the sunlight
Were waiting to be kissed.
