The Blue Bird (Custance)/'God Took Great Roses Rare and Pale'
God took great roses rare and pale,And formed your body fair and frail;God took white violets cool and sweet,And fashioned your small hands and feet;God took bright dust of gold and spunYour soft hair, coloured like the sun;God made your clear and mystic eyes,As blue as wild blue butterflies!
Lady! when as a child you played,I think some angel all the whileWith folded wings beside you stayed;You still remember her strange smile . . .And when you say the simplest words,The echo of her voice we hear . . .
And as across grey seas the birdsFly after summer every year,So our souls, when they hear you speak,Straightway in search of heaven depart . . .Or turning to your arms they seekThe angel hidden in your heart! . . .