Page:A channel passage and other poems (IA channelpassageot00swinrich).pdf/191



, small, and sweet as sunniest flowers That bask in heavenly heat When bud by bud breaks, breathes, and cowers, Soft, small, and sweet.

A babe's hands open as to greet The tender touch of ours And mock with motion faint and fleet

The minutes of the new strange hours That earth, not heaven, must mete; Buds fragrant still from heaven's own bowers,1 Soft, small, and sweet.