Madonna With Two Angels

Under the sky without a stain

The long, ripe, rippling of the grain;

Light, broadcast from the golden oats

Over the blackberry fences floats.

Madonna sits in a cedar chair

Tranquillized by the warm, still air;

One of the angels asleep on her knee

Under the shade of an apple tree.

The other angel holds a doll,

Covered warm in a tiny shawl;

The toy is supposed to be fast asleep

As the sister angel: in dimples deep

The grave, sweet charm on the baby face

Repeats the look of maturer grace

That hovers about Madonna's eyes,

One of the heavenly mysteries

From far ethereal latitudes

Where neither doubt nor trouble intrudes.

Ponder here in the orchard nest

On the truth of life made manifest:

The struggle and effort was all to prove

That the best of the world is home and love.