Page:A Year's Life.djvu/128

114 Unto me bringeth blessing, and a feeling

As when I read in God's own holy book.

A graciousness in giving that doth make

The small'st gift greatest, and a sense most meek

Of worthiness,that doth not fear to take

From others, but which always fears to speak

Its thanks in utterance, for the giver's sake;—

The deep religion of a thankful heart,

Which rests instinctively in Heaven's clear law

With a full peace, that never can depart

From its own steadfastness;—a holy awe

For holy things,—not those which men call holy,

But such as are revealèd to the eyes

Of a true woman's soul bent down and lowly

Before the face of daily mysteries;—

A love that blossoms soon, but ripens slowly

To the full goldenness of fruitful prime,

Enduring with a firmness that defies

All shallow tricks of circumstance and time,