Page:Dora Sigerson Shorter - New Poems.djvu/24

 And as he prayed from off his heart Fear’s clutching fingers fell, A holy joy grew in his heart He knew that all was well.

He turned him left and stayed to take A white rose from her tree, He turned him right and lilted low A wild bird melody.

He looked him back and smiling saw The tall church guarding him, And then all fearless laughing sped Through shadows strange and dim. When but a year had passed away There came before his gate, A dying man who "Succour," cried "Before it be too late."

"Oh, shrive me, Father, ere I die," The moaning stranger said; He took him to his own hearth side And laid him on his bed.