Poems (Bass)/A Gift

by Cora C. Bass

For works with similar titles, see A Gift.

A GIFT.

It was given him in youth,
 Bestowed by a kingly hand;
Sweet as the flower of truth,
 When its first fair buds expand.
It was given him to prize,
 To guard with a jealous care;
This gift in a humble guise
 But precious beyond compare.

It was given him—he turned
 From promise so close concealed,
Although in his soul he yearned
 To follow the unrevealed.
He turned from a gift which came
 In the flush of boyhood days,
It clung to him just the same
 As he trod the world's wild maze.

It was given him—it slept.
 But would not be cast aside;
Till into his heart it crept
 A-quiver with love and pride.
Yea, into his heart it crept,
 He worked with at new-born skill;
And whether He laughed or wept
 He worked with a steadfast will.

It was given him—he caught
 It close to his heaving breast
And a miracle was wrought,
 For a genius stood confessed.
The Kilt which he held the least
 Was the gift the Lord had sent,
Lo, the angel at the feast
 He had misnamed, discontent.