A Blessing for the Blessed

When the sun has left the hill-top,

And the daisy-fringe is furled,

When the birds from wood and meadow

In their hidden nests are curled,

Then I think of all the babies

That are sleeping in the world....

There are babies in the high lands

And babies in the low,

There are pale ones wrapped in furry skins

On the margin of the snow,

And brown ones naked in the isles,

Where all the spices grow.

And some are in the palace

On a white and downy bed,

And some are in the garret

With a clout beneath their head,

And some are on the cold hard earth,

Whose mothers have no bread.

O little men and women,

Dear flowers yet unblown!

O little kings and beggars

Of the pageant yet unshown!

Sleep soft and dream pale dreams now,

To-morrow is your own....

Though some shall walk in darkness,

And others in the light,

Though some shall smile and others weep

In the silence of the night,

When Life has touched with many hues

Your souls now clear and white:

God save you, little children!

And make your eyes to see

His finger pointing in the dark

Whatever you may be,

Till one and all, through Life and Death,

Pass to Eternity....