Page:Poems by Frances Fuller Victor.djvu/53

 The other was of graver type,

Dark-haired, and slight, of quiet mien;

Her spirit showing strong, and ripe

For action on whatever scene

Her duty placed her; asking not,

And caring nothing for applause;

Herself, and self-love, all forgot

In service of the Master's cause,

With such devotion and restraint

As in past ages made the saint.

"They could not tarry. But a day

We had them with us. While they staid,

We talked each fleeting hour away,

Nor any pause in labor made,

But worked the while we talked. I strove

To add such comforts to their store,

Too small at most, as anxious love

Suggested, pained to do no more:

And, added to more real needs,

My little gift of poppy seeds."

"You knew they bloomed?" I asked. "In time

A message came. She praised their hue

And said they loved that soil and clime,

And with a rich luxuriance grew

Unknown to us. They made her walk 47